Heaven From Here
by Snowfilly
Summary: How a friendship that cut across rank and age and lasted through the worst years of CID turned into a love that saved a broken man. Mickey and Meadows, as friends, colleagues and lovers. Chapter 59. The ending - and a beginning. Complete.
1. She's gone?

Heaven From Here Chapter 1

_Know no fear, I'll still be here tomorrow._

_Bend my ear, I'm not gonna go away._

_I'll shelter you, make it alright to cry_

_And you'll help too, cos the faith in myself_

_has run dry._

_I see real love in your eyes _

_And it fills me up when you start to cry._

_We are love and I just wanna hold you near_

_Know no fear, we will see Heaven from here._

Heaven from Here, R. Williams, G. Chambers

Mickey swung away from Kate's bed, away from her dead form, and into Meadows' arms. He hadn't realised that the older man had been standing there, nearly cannoned the DCI off his feet. Mickey had to shut his eyes as Meadows regained his balence, then enfolded him in an embrace.

'Oh, Mickey, I'm so sorry. So, so sorry.'

'She - she's dead?' Mickey's voice was wondering; he couldn't take in what he had seen.

'I know. She died before you got here.'

'Kate - isn't here? She's gone. Why didn't she wait?'

Meadows' voice came near to breaking as he answered. 'She didn't know you were coming, Mickey. She didn't know anything since it blew up yesterday. We did tell her; I told her; she didn't know.'

'If I'd come earlier...'

'No. She wouldn't have known - you would have had to see her die' He could feel Mickey's tears now, hot and damp, soaking through his jacket. 'She had to go, Mickey. It was her time.'

'No. No... She's too young to leave. It isn't fair - not fair.'

'I know.' Meadows left one arm around Mickey's waist but stepped slightly away from him. 'Come on, let's leave her. She's alright now, remember? She's safe, peaceful.'

'Why am I still here then? Why should I have to live without her?'

'Because it worked out that way. C'mon, Mickey. Let's get you home.' He walked out of the ward with Mickey staggering beside him, blind and trusting. The DC's grief was silent; tears fell unchecked down onto his shirt.

Meadows led him back to the main waiting room for intensive care; found a couple there locked in their own grief, the woman looking so much like Kate that Mickey spoke the name aloud. He blinked, then bolted on uneasy legs into a side room.

'You're Kate's parents, are you?' Meadows managed to keep his voice level.

'Yes. I'm her mum, Katherine. This is Martin. You are?'

'DCI Jack Meadows, her boss. I'm so sorry - she was a fine officer, one that I was proud to have in my department.'

Mrs. Spears was able to respond, her voice still thick from crying. 'She was always good at what she did. That man you was with, who is he?'

'Mickey? He's a DC, works at Sun Hill. He was close to Kate.' He waited to see if the name evoked a response from either of them; if Kate had ever mentioned that she, alone of those who had contended with her, had caught Mickey's eye and then not wanted his love.

'Mickey? No, she told us about Tom, her boyfriend a few times. I think that she said something about Mickey messing around a few times, playing jokes on her. Just being silly, like.'

Meadows almost smiled at that reminder of how Mickey had been around Kate, showing his

attraction through his playful attitude. 'They were friends, but Mickey fancied her. Always

did. She knew, but...Why am I telling you this?'

'Oh, that poor man.' She was as generous and affectionate as her daughter had been, seemingly proud that her child had been so coverted.'Will he be alright?'

'I'll look after him. Look, anything I can do...'

'No, no.' She shook her head madly. 'You've enough to do. Don't worry about us.' Her husband nodded, spoke for the first time.

'We'll cope.'

Mickey came back into the room then, walking as though he was unsure of the ground beneath his feet. He kept his eyes down. 'I loved her, too, you know.'

'I know, Mickey. I know.' Meadows got his arm around Mickey's waist again, supporting most of his slight weight. 'Time to go.' He nodded a farewell to Kate's parents and led Mickey out to the car park.

'I'll get some-one to come and pick your car up later. Are you okay?'

'She's - she's dead, Jack.' It was an answer of a kind.

Meadows reached awkwardly across from the driver's seat to rest his hand on Mickey's shoulder. 'Mickey...' He started the car up, drove back to Mickey's flat one-handedly.

Mickey was relieved to get home, stupidly grateful when Meadows came indoors with him and helped him over to the sofa. 'Anyone I could call for you, Mickey?'

'N-Nah. No-one. On my own.'

'You shouldn't be. Not tonight.'

'Haven't g-got anyone. Mum's workin'.'

Meadows looked at the younger man; huddled into one corner of the sofa as though he was trying to deney the existence of the world. He wanted, so badly, to stop this happening, to stop it hurting for Mickey. 'I'll stay if you want.'

'I don't care. I want her back, that's all. I don't care what you do.'

Meadows moved over and gathered Mickey in his arms, murmering senselessly as he did so. He'd often held his daughters like this, bringing the world down to just themselves, freezing out the pain; it didn't occur to him to do anything different with Mickey.He simply sat there, into the night, holding Mickey and forcing out his own grief. He could feel that later, when Mickey was asleep. Meadows was suprised to find that Mickey leant into the contact, nestling his head against the DCI's chest, but it was his silence that shocked Meadows - Mickey was always talking, humming, whistling; he didn't in silence even in interview rooms.

He carried on talking, just talking, until Mickey had fallen asleep. Moving as quietly as Mickey had been sitting, he walked through the rest of the tiny flat - kitchen with a stool pulled up to the workbench, where he obviously ate, a bathroom with t-shirt and shorts soaking in muddy bathwater, a bedroom. He would have regonised that room as Mickey's in any circumstances; it smelt of his deoderant and of him, had the same dishevilled look as the man who slept in it.

He stripped the blankets off, went back to Mickey and covered him with them. Finally, convinced that the DC was as comfortable as possible, he walked over to an armchair and tried to sleep. He'd left the lights on, guessing that Mickey would probably wake in the night and want to get up, but he'd never been able to sleep with the lights blazing down. For Mickey's sake, he was prepared to tolerate that, tonight, tomorrow night, whenever.

Later, he would pinpoint that day as the first day that he truly loved Mickey Webb. Mickey's memories of it were hazed by grief, but he was able to agree, because he never forgot how it had felt to be held by Meadows. It felt like safety and to his mind safety, protection - that was love.


	2. I'll be there with you

The next few days came near to breaking Mickey; hurting him beyond what even he, hardened by a childhood of suffering, could endure. Yet, every time when he felt that the pain was too much and he wanted to turn away from it all, he found that Meadows, or someone appointed by Meadows, was there. Duncan normally, a uniform man or Danny occasionally, always someone. It was much later that he realised they'd never left him alone because they were afraid he'd kill himself.

The DCI looked after Mickey as well as he could, cooked for him, never mentioned that he had his own home to go to. Mickey couldn't recall him mentioning his own grief, nor the long hours that he spent working with the ruins of his department, trying to rebuild what he had lost. In fact, he couldn't recall any conversation beyond Meadows talking nonsense to him while he wept.

It was the silence that Mickey remembered the most from those few days, the first week after Kate had died. Silence, because any music invariabily had a lyric that reminded him of Kate and any TV show would get left on until it got to the local news. It was as silent as the grave, even with Meadows sharing the house.

And the only other aspect of it that he remembered was the night-times. He'd lost his concept of time; all his days were the same agonising mixture of pain, choking anger at the unfairness of it, and and a fear that he'd be next to die, so that he couldn't sleep because he did nothing during the day. But Meadows insisted that he made an effort, that he laid down and tried to sleep; would always come to his side if he called out. Eventually, he was able to sleep simply because he knew that Meadows was awake and nearby, looking out for him.

It was Monday, the day of Kate's funeral, that Mickey was finally able to talk, and what he intended to be a thankyou for the DCI turned into an arguement that he couldn't help and didn't mean. Meadows had suggested that he went and got changed.

'I can't face it. I don't want to go.'

'Mickey, it's only her body. She's already gone, it's just a shell that they're burying. You've faced more than that, haven't you?'

'No, no, I can't.' His breath was coming in gasps like a panting dog.

'She'd like you to be there.' Below the belt, instantly regretted but impossible to unsay.

'Once they bury her, it's real.'

'It's already real, Mickey. Come on, I'll be there with you. No-one will bother you.'

'I c-can't.'

Meadows sighed, moved back to where he'd spent most of the past few days - sitting next to Mickey. The DC would normally turn into the contact, lay his head against Meadows but today, the DCI kept his distance and denied Mickey that comfort.

'Yes, you can. 'Course you can. You have to.'

'I can't.'

'You must. Otherwise, otherwise, Chandler's won. He's warned you off.'

Mickey caved in then, brokenly agreeing. Meadows held him for a minute, hating himself for hurting Mickey. 'Do you want to get ready?'

'Yeah.' His throat hurt, was lividly sore from the effort of holding even such a short conversation. Stumbling through his flat, he was able to shower and change, becoming aware of his surroundings to the extent that he noticed, and was revolted by, the stale sweat crusted on his clothes. The suit - his only one, brought for his Hendon graduation - fitted better than it had done then; proof of the weight he'd lost over the past few days.

'You need to shave.' Meadows kept his voice soft, hoping that Mickey would listen to the words and not the sorrow and tiredness that shaded them. The younger man didn't need to know what his guardian was enduring.

'I guess... I do.' Mickey touched the stubble on his cheeks; stubble that was nearly a beard. He walked back to the bathroom, obviously keeping the door open as Meadows could hear the tap running.

'Aaaah!' It was an explosive yell, sparkling with pain. Meadows run over to see him, and for a minute, Mickey's blood stainned face reminded him of the marks on the faces of those who had died in the fire.

'What happened?'

'Just slipped.'

Meadows wasn't suprised; Mickey had clenched his hands around the sink but they were still trembling. He was too tired, too exhausted by grief to concentrate and his face was swollen from crying.

'You want a hand?'

Mickey just handed him the razor - an old steel one that looked like it was a hand-me-down but was still hellishly sharp. Then he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, a gesture of such trust that it pierced the DCI's heart.

He'd never shaved anyone else before, but despite the fact that he nicked the skin once and Mickey gasped, they both appreciated that this was better than Mickey struggling on his own. It was only as he pulled the razor down under Mickey's jaw that he realised the depth of the younger man's faith in him - that it would be so easy to cut or kill Mickey; that Mickey knew it and still allowed it.

It was a complete surrender of trust - complete and utter faith. Meadows suspected that, if their postions had been reversed, he wouldn't have been able to do that. Mickey sensed when he'd finished and fumbled with one hand to catch Meadows'; the DCI squeezed it once for reassurance.

'Thanks.'

Meadows shook his head as he led Mickey out to the car. 'It's nothing, Mickey.' He thought as he drove to the church, trying to work out why he was killing himself trying to look after Mickey when so many others had lost friends and partners. He couldn't admit, even to himself, that one tiny part of the reason why was the look that came into Mickey's eyes when Meadows was looking after him.

Neither man could remember anything of the service, except that they sat in the front row and that by the end of it, Meadows had his arm around Mickey's shoulders. They buried Kate and most of Mickey's heart as well.


	3. I thought you'd gone

**Three months on**

'Stupid, stupid bleeding poxy case,' Mickey growled and chucked the notes over in the general direction of Pual Riley's desk. 'I've had enough with it.' The rest of the office looked up in mild suprise as he stormed out of the room, but since Kate's death, they had been wary of criticsing him.

He collided - literally - with Meadows on the stairs.

'Watch it!'

Then the DCI realised who it was and his harsh face softened. The sudden change in expression caught Mickey's eye; he looked closely at his friend for the first time since the fire, and the sight shocked him.

How long had those blue eyes been shadowed with tiredness, hazed with grief, like his when he stared into the mirror? How long, now, since that chestnut hair had turned silver? He tried to reconcile the old man leaning against the rail with the man who had supported him during those weeks and could not. They could have been different people except for the way Meadows made it seem safe simply by his presence.

Mickey wanted, in that second, to ask Meadows if he was okay, to apologise for being a burden to him over the past months. He wanted to say Okay, you looked after me, let me help you now.'

'You look old, guv.' He couldn't say it. _You look old, tired, mortal; you're meant to be strong, not like me._

'Mickey?'

Startled, the younger man physically lept in suprise.

'Is anything wrong?'

'Wha'? Oh, no. Thinking.'

'Good. See you later.' The DCI walked off and Meadows wondered if he'd mistaken what he'd seen because the Dalesman seemed confident and vital again. _You're not getting old, you're not..._He murmured the words as though he was trying to deney the inevitable.

Eventually, Eva came looking for him and he had not time to worry about anything except his caseload for the rest of the day. And when the others were quiet, he could hear the familar, dear sound of the DCI pacing in his office.

Meadows wasn't there the next morning; didn't come in during the rest of the day. It panicked Mickey, leaving him adrift - he hadn't been here alone,as he essentially was without Meadows,since the day Kate had died. It wasn't that he worked with Meadows, or even spoke with him every day; it was that Meadows was always there, would talk with him or comfort him when the pain was too bad, and today, he didn't have that option. He was alone.

_You're not getting old. You're not, you're not. _He half felt that Meadows would pick up his desperate thoughts. _You can't leave me. You can't die. Not you.._

Meadows was back the next day; greeted Mickey with a smile as the younger man forgot his dignity and that others might be around, and half run to him.

'I thought - I thought - you'd gone.'

'No. Won't get rid of me that easily.' Meadows pretended that he hadn't seen Mickey's gesture - the raised hand that brushed against his sleeve as though Mickey was checking that he was real and not a vision.

Mickey abruptly realised what he was doing and stepped smartly back. 'Good to see you, though. You okay?'

'Course. It wasn't anything much.' _I'm not going to tell him that Chandler's driving me mental; not when he's panicking that I'm ill for a day. _'Mickey, go get on with your work.' He smilied at the DC, then clasped his hand affectionatly. 'Honest, I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere.'

Walking away, he wondered why he'd said that to Mickey, let alone why he'd taken his hand.

Mickey shivered as he sat at the desk, shocked by the realisations of how tired Meadows looked and how dependent he'd become on the DCI; even more shocked as he remembered that his first impulse had been to touch Meadows even though any other touch had left him revolted because it wasn't Kate. _It's not like that..._but he couldn't shake the suspicion that he was coming to like Meadows. Like him, like him...


	4. I can't promise I can heal you

**A month later**

Song lines copyright R. Williams, G. Chambers

'I can't do this, guv.'

'I know. We've got to, though. You know that - I know that. He's a out and out bastard, and really, if we can't get him out, then I'd rather leave than work with him.'

'Yes, but...'

'But, what, Mickey?'

'I've been an out and out bastard at times. So've you - sorry - so's everyone around here, and we haven't tried to get them forced out, have we?'

'He raped someone; we should be prosecuting him rather than just trying to force him out, trust me. And, I _hate_ him. Even before I knew what he'd done.'

The conversation rambled on, both men trying to convince the other of what they only half believed themselves. Meadows hated Chandler; an instinctive, unthinking hatred that he'd felt the first time they'd met. Mickey was jealous of him, madly so, because he'd slept with Kate. Two motives as simple as that and neither man was willing to fully admit why he wanted Chandler out of the station.

Meadows finally sprung up from his seat and walked around to stand next to Mickey. 'Lets just say- just say we wish he was dead and be done with.' His voice was thick with suppressed laughter and he was unprepared for Mickey's bleak reply.

'Not dead, guv. Not even him - I wouldn't wish that on anyone that likes him. Even him - there must be somebody that loves him.' His voice was so desolate that Meadows hated himself for that thoughtless remark.

'Sorry.'

Mickey turned to face him, looking up at the taller man. 'I know.'

'We'll get him out, Mickey. We will.' He touched Mickey's arm gently, an apology for what he'd said, and was suprised when the younger man took a step towards him, then stood staring at him. Meadows hesitated, then put his arms around his friend's shoulders.

They stood like that for a long, long time, in silence. Mickey wanted to ask if Meadows knew what day this was, if the DCI realised why he'd stayed here tonight and picked an arguement. It was Kate's birthday; a year ago, she'd had a party, they'd laughed and joked with her. He'd managed to kiss her on the steps of the pub, just once, and she'd told him off for being drunk, then kissed him back..._Happy birthday, Kate. Hope you know I'm thinking of you..._

Gradually, he realised that Meadows was talking softly to him. 'I miss her too, Mick. I do. I know what it's like.' Mickey felt safe there, with the other man holding him, and the pain eased as well, eventually, as it became clear that Meadows did know what the day was.

'Jack?' He'd never used the DCI's Christian name before; was unsure of the reaction it might generate.

'Yes?'

'I don't, I don't want to go home. Come out and get drunk. Stop it hurting.'

Meadows didn't answer for a while; just held Mickey. The hesitant use of his first name had touched him more than he'd care to admit. 'You don't need to be drinking tonight.'

'Yes, I do.'

'No. I'll come stay with you tonight, if you want. You can't drink things away.' Meadows stood silent again, one arm still round Mickey's shoulders.

'Okay.' Mickey's voice was resigned and painful. 'We can talk about _him' _- 'him' was always Chandler, these days - 'and ways of killing him.' He laughed, a grim, hollow sound.

They walked down to the car park together, Mickey aware that some of the night shift were wondering why he was still there, and Meadows had driven halfway to Mickey's flat before he found it necessary to speak.

'You want to go and see her, or go home, Mickey?'

'Home. Please.'

A half mile further on, in a crawling traffic jam, Meadows looked over at his mute passenger and saw that Mickey was weeping. Gently, he reached across and wiped his fingers over Mickey's cheek. Mickey didn't flinch or move away. A flash of a song came into Meadows' mind, titleless, half forgotten, but so descriptive of his feelings right now. _I can't promise I can heal you, but if you want to, I can try..._It hurt him more than he'd ever admit to see Mickey like this, and he was prepared to do anything to heal him. Whatever it took, no limitations, until that smile flashed again.

Mickey raised one hand up to Meadows' and left it there until the traffic jam shifted.


	5. I killed a man

The gunshot echoed around the station, followed by a softer crash as Chandler's body hit the floor and then silence. Shakily, Mickey got to his feet and looked around the office, at Chandler and Debbie.

Check Debbie was the first thing. Yes, she was breathing. Seemed to be in shock, her heart pounding. Strange, he wasn't in shock. He could think. Chandler was dead. No need to check with his head like that. Was he okay himself? There was blood on him, splattered over his stomach and legs.

Curious, he looked down at himself. It was Chandler's blood that he wore; a great deal of it. The room was silent still. He leant his hands on the desk and doubled over, trying to get his breath. Something had happened to the world; it had changed to black and grey and it was whirling.

'Mickey? Mickey?' A frantic shout from outside.

Unwillingly, he walked over and unbolted the door. His voice wouldn't work, he couldn't talk, so he just waved Meadows in. Meadows barralled into the room, looked briefly around and then turned to Mickey, his eyes full of the residue of panic.

'I thought - I thought he'd killed you.' His voice echoed, as though he was speaking from a great distance.

Meadows stepped towards him, slipped one arm around Mickey's waist, and the world suddenly seemed to lurch back into full colour and sound. Debbie was crying, whimpering, as the others hurried in, shouting and shouting. Running footsteps, someone screaming and all the others pausing in the doorway to look at the dead man and the two now locked in an embrace.

'I killed him, Jack. I _killed_ a man.'

Muttering denials, Meadows led him away into his office and shut the door, pulled the blinds down. Both of them were covered in blood now.

'He shot himself?'

A mute nod; he'd lost his voice again, afraid that he'd vomit if he tried to speak. His legs buckled suddenly, and he had to sit down with all his muscles trembling as though he was cold. He could feel himself losing control, knew he was going to cry.

Meadows pulled his jacket off the back of his chair and draped it around Mickey's shoulders, ignoring the fact that it would be ruined. Then he crouched down by Mickey's chair and held him. They were still like that - Meadows on his knees, unable to believe that Mickey had survived and Mickey quaking, trying to weep, when Gina Gold and Alex Cullen arrived to take control.

_I thought he'd died. Not Debbie and her kid, not Chandler, him_. Meadows wondered how Debbie would take that - their eyes had met for a moment and then he'd blatently turned away, ignored her for his DC who had been standing there - and he was afraid that in that second, all the strange love he felt for Mickey had flashed over his face.

Reluctantly, Meadows got to his feet and turned to look at the two inspectors. It was only when Cullen gave him a curious look that he realised that he had been crying. Crying tears of helpless relief because Mickey had survived.

'Alex, I think we can give them a while longer. Come on.' Gina led the ginger-haired man outside again, and Meadows looked back to Mickey.

The DC reached one hand up to touch Meadows's face, then gave him a questioning look. Without words, he managed to query why Meadows was dying.

'Because I thought you'd died.'

An emphatic headshake. This time it was Mickey who held Meadows, remembering that his first thought when the gun cracked had been relief that his guardian was on the other side of the wall.

Gina, sitting with Meadows in an interview room later, tried not to dwell on the fact that they'd looked more like lovers than colleagues or even friends.


	6. Go sober up, Mickey

'Have you seen Mickey anywhere?'

A chorus of 'no' from around the office and Meadows kicking himself because he should have used his surname and rank. 'Well, if anyone does see DC Webb, tell him I want to see him.'

He stalked down to his car and tired Mickey on his mobile. It was the one place where he was relativl sure of not being overheard, and they'd both heard the rumours that Cullen had started a month ago, after Chander's suicide. Rumours that, Meadows guessed, hurt Mickey much more than they hurt him, because for the DCI, they were partly true.

He loved Mickey. A feeling based first on simple admiration for his intelligence and sense of humour. He knew, quite certainly, that he would have liked Mickey however they had met. It had been a long while before Mickey had began to return that - he'd been too suspicious and distrustful because of the differences in their rank - but eventuall, they'd become friends. Then, Meadows had come to love him.

There hadn't been any physical attraction at first; just boundless respect for someone who had suffered so much and still tried to carry on; respect and pity that was so intense that it could only really be called love. He knew, too, how much Mickey liked him, depended on him. He also suspected from the way Mickey was with him, willing to work with him, to be physically close or even touching when he shied away from any other contact, that Mickey's feelings possibly went beyond friendship. And now - _if he didn't have blue eyes, it wouldn't be so bad... _Blue eyes were what he dreamt about now.

Eventaully, Mickey answered his mobile. 'Guv?'

'Where are you?'

'Canley Arms.' He didn't even bother trying to lie to the DCI.

'Why?' His voice was still warm but suddenly very much that of the superior officer.

'I don't know. Drinking.'

'You're meant to be working.'

'I know.' Mickey sounded exhausted, his voice rough and catching, and it was only that which stopped Meadows bawling him out. He thought back, trying to remember if they'd actually talked since Chandler's death; he didn't think they had.

'Do you want me to say you're ill?'

'Would you?' Incredulous, as if he couldn't believe someone would cover up for him like that.

'Today, yes.'

'Thanks.'

A pause in the conversation, then Meadows asking softly, 'Do you want me to come and pick you up?'

'Okay.'

Meadows drove there as quickly as he could, glad that he had a warrent card to show to anyone who noticed what speed he was doing. Mickey was sitting at the bar, and for the first time since he'd known the DC, he looked drunk.

'Hey, Jack. Wanna drink?' Mickey fumbled in his jeans pocket for his money, a movement that drew Meadows' attention.

'No thanks.'

'You sure?'

Seeing that Mickey wanted company more than anything, he changed his mind. 'Carlsberg. Half.'

He took the drink and thanked Mickey. 'How many you had?'

'A few.' His tone was defensive.

'It's only seven, you know, and I haven't seen you in all day. Are you okay?'

'No. Would have been in if I were alright. Sorry.'

They sat in silence for a while, Mickey tossing back his scotch as though it was water, and Meadows drinking more slowly and taking the chance to look at Mickey. The younger man was skinny, almost guant and his eyes were shadowed, there was no hint of laughter on his face - nothing like what he had been like when they first met. Even his mother would have been hard pressed to call him attractive now, and yet, and yet...

'You coming now, Mick?'

'If you wan'.' He made a credible effort at standing up and walking straight across the bar but outside he wavered, and Meadows was obliged to hold him up with brute strength. Their progress, uneven as it was, got them over to the DCI's car and Meadows leant down to help him into the passenger seat, his face close to the younger man.

It seemed as natural as breathing for Mickey to raise his lips to Jack's; for Meadows to be aware of the touch of stubble, the taste and smell of whiskey and sweat and something that was undefinably 'Mickey' and then for them both to realise what was happening.

'Go sober up, Mickey.' He made his voice rough, angry - most of the anger directed at himself for having enjoyed the moment. He slammed the door shut, drove to Mickey's flat in aggrived silence.

Mickey got out of the car and looked back at Meadows, an invitation in his eyes shaded by the alcohol.

'Just go get sober, Mick.' He hated himself as he said it, hated himself even more when he saw Mickey take it as a rejection and flinch away. One of the hardest things Meadows had ever done, worse than breaking the news to bereaved parents, than taking statements from murder witnesses, was to drive away into the rainy night and know that Mickey was standing there alone, so alone.


	7. Come back to mine

'You sober yet?' He bawled that at Mickey across the office.

'Yes, sir.' Mickey didn't lift his eyes from the floor.

'Are you okay?' Meadows had lowered his voice now, come slightly closer.

'Yeah.'

Meadows ignored Mickey for the rest of the day. He wasn't angry with Mickey; he was angry at himself, for the dreams that had plagued him all last night; for the way in which Mickey didn't appear to remember yesterday evening.

'Guv, can I ask you someth-?'

'No, Mickey. I've got to go out. It's urgent.'

'Guv?' Mickey's planative voice echoed down the corridor as he stood there, holding the file that he wanted to discuss and watched Meadows walk away from him. _What have I done? Jack, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Just tell me what I've done... _'Guv?'

Meadows hurried away, trying not to listen, but still able to feel the confused, hurt look in Mickey's eyes boring into his back. It took all his self control to carry on and talk with Okaro, rather than turn back and see Mickey. He delibrately avoided going back to the general office until shift change.

Mickey was there alone, his head pillowed on his arms, backlit by the streetlights that burnished his hair to gold and bronze. 'Jack?' He didn't open his eyes nor lift his head.

'Nice to see you can keep off the booze for a day.'

Mickey sighed, not even able to vocalise a response to that. It hurt and he couldn't understand why Meadows was treating him like this. He could feel tears pricking his eyelids; his grief not for himself, but for Debbie of all people, because they'd both lost the people they loved; and for his friendship with the DCI.

Suddenly, the anger drained from Meadows. Mickey looked pathetic; tired and broken and so, so trusting - not like the brash young man who had tried to kiss him yesterday. 'Mickey, I didn't mean that.'

'Why-why say it then?'

'I was angry.'

'Wit' me?'

'No, not with you.'

'I was drunk last night. I didn't meant it, Jack.' He still hadn't opened his eyes, and his heart was beating so wildly that he hadn't heard Meadows walk over to him; didn't realise until Meadows had put his arms around his shoulders.

The DCI's breath was warm against his skin. 'Come on, Mickey. Let's get you home.' Reluctantly, Mickey opened his eyes and ended up staring into Meadows'.

'Don't cry.' His voice was gentle as he stroked one hand across Mickey face to remove the tears, something that he'd done once before. He was searching for a suitable endearment and not finding one beyond Mickey's name repeated over and over again, when Vic Singh walked in to take the nightshift.

Embaressed, Meadows helped Mickey to his feet and led him down to the car park. The same snatch of that song was playing in his head '_I can't promise I will heal you' but I will. I swear I will..._

'Wrong way, Jack.'

Meadows shook his head. 'Come back to mine tonight - you don't need to be alone.' He'd had Laura with him since then; it hadn't occured to him that Mickey, who had seen the gun go off, had been on his own since then and if it had affected Mickey as it had affected him, then he should never have been alone for even one night.

'You sure? What about Laura?'

'Don't worry. It's okay.' His voice was so soothing that Mickey found his eyes falling shut, lulled by the Yorkshire accent and the swish-swish of tyres along the damp road. 'Don't worry, Mickey.'

_I'm not worried; I've got you to protect me _Mickey wanted to say, but he was too tired and too confused about what he was feeling to speak. _When you're not shouting at me...you don't worry me. And I won't have to worry about Chandler tonight, either. ..._


	8. Hold me, take care of me

He'd never been to Jack's place before. The size and the sheer upmarketness of it suprised him, as much as Laura's attitude towards them both. She obviously disapproved of Mickey, even though they'd never met before; enough so that she went out despite the lateness of the hour.

'Sorry about that, Mickey.' Meadows' tone made it clear that this was a fairly frequent occurance and that he wasn't really that sorry.

'No, I'm sorry. Shoulda gone home, not come bothering you.'

'Rather have you here than her.' Meadows stood there for a moment, feeling awkward. 'What do you think?'

'It's - it's nice.' Mickey couldn't help it; the rest of what he wanted to say was muffled by a yawn.

'It's alright. Not much, but it's enough. You want to come and sit down?' He walked through to a small room that was apparantly his, enough like his office that Mickey felt instantly at home. Grateful, Mickey sunk down onto a battered sofa and looked up at Meadows.

'You want anything?'

Mickey shook his head, but Meadows insisted on making dinner, fixing him a drink and apologising constantly until Mickey realised that he was trying to atone for what he'd said earlier. 'Jack, honest, it's okay. Really it is.'

'You sure?'

'Yeah.'

Meadows came over and sat down next to him, turned to look at him.

'Jack, look, I'm sorry about upsetting Laura.'

'Don't be. She hardly speaks to me now, so it's obvious that she'd disapprove of you.' Meadows was conscious of the pity that flashed across Mickey's face, reminding him of how wrong it was to complain about his relationship when Mickey had never had one with Kate. _Or with me, whatever he wanted and I thought about. _

'Still...' He changed the subject. 'Shall we quit apologising to each other, and just let it be?'

'Sorry, Mickey, I didn't hear that.' Meadows laughed, and the tension that neither man had been quite aware of went out of the room. They both relaxed, and let the conversation veer away into football and cars, before it became a friendly arguement about music that ended only when Meadows agreed to listen to Mickey's Libertines CD sometime. Meadows couldn't remember the last time he'd sat at home and laughed.

The spare room that Meadows eventually showed Mickey to was pleasent enough; warm enough that it eased some of the cold around Mickey's heart that he'd started to think was permament. How long now since anyone had ever welcomed him into their home as a guest? Too long, too much of being unwanted and unwelcomed.

'Night, Mickey.'

'Night, guv... Thanks.'

Meadows, in his own bed, managed to get some sleep before pacing footsteps woke him. He lay in the half-dazed state of the newly woken, listening as the TV was turned on softly. Eventually realising that it must be Mickey, as Luara would have stormed upstairs to shout at him, he got up and walked down to the front room.

The DC, still wearing his jeans and blue shirt, was staring blankly at the screen. He'd turned all the downstairs lights on, and in the glare, he looked very, very young and very vulnerable. His hair was plastered down onto his forehead; it took Meadows a moment to see the sweat on his face.

'Mickey, are you alright?'

'Couldn't sleep. Sorry to wake you.'

'Don't worry. I thought we had a no apologising thing going, anyway?'

'Yeah, we did.'

'Are you okay, though?'

He ducked his head, trying to look away without losing sight of the one person who was looking out for him. 'Nightmares. He was asking me why I killed him. Every night...whenever I sleep...'

Meadows sat down next to him, looking at the TV to avoid meeting his eyes that had been hazed by tiredness to a myriad of shades of blue. The way Mickey was sitting, his body language, seemed to be saying 'hold me, take care of me,' and Meadows was willing to do so. He draped one arm over Mickey's shoulders and down onto the DC's forearm, pulled Mickey closer to him. 'You tired, still, or don't you want to sleep? Don't mind gettting up if you want.'

'Tired.' He was bone deep, achingly tired, but aware that he'd not fall asleep again tonight on his own. The TV, music, none of that ever seemed to block what he heard when he closed his eyes now; it had only been the drink that helped.

'Go to sleep, then.' There was the echo of a sing-song chant in Meadows' voice, the words being those that he remembered whispering to his daughters years before._ It's okay, I'm here, you're alright and everything is going to be fine, so got to sleep..._

Mickey was too tired to resist, too fond of Meadows to worry about how they were sitting; only dimly aware that the soft voice was whispering as he fell asleep; that strong arms were holding him and protecting him, that perhaps the nightmares couldn't reach him now. Meadows debated whether or not to turn the lights off, eventually recalling that Mickey didn't like the dark, and was his last thought before he fell asleep next to the DC.

When Laura came in the next morning, both men were still asleep on the sofa, sprawled in a tangle of legs and arms. The lights had leeched all shadows out of the room; it was easy to see Mickey's clothing rank with sweat and that Meadows hadn't bothered to put a shirt on before coming downstairs.

The gun-shot slam of the door as she walked out wakened both of them.

**A /N - the time line here breaks down; the first Libertines album was released later, I think, but I can quite see Mickey liking it, so... corrections welcome, though**


	9. You're the first bloke I've ever met

'Morning, Jack.'

'Morning.' Meadows was relieved to realise that what he chiefly remembered from last night had only taken place in dreams. 'Uhh...' He disentangled himself from the younger man and sat up, streching and yawning. He couldn't help staring at Mickey, noticing that his blue eyes looked almost hazelly in this light.

'You okay, Mickey? Sleep alright?'

And he could see the confusion in Mickey's eyes, the dawning realisation that he'd spent the night asleep with his DCI, and then the confusion was replaced by acceptance and - pleasure? Meadows realised that it was inevitable, and they both knew what was going to happen and this time, he did nothing except cup one hand gently around Mickey's face, seeing him flinch away from the cold touch of the wedding ring he was wearing.

And then they were kissing, neither of them dominating because this was something that they both felt and wanted. It was just a kiss, no tongues or touching beyond that of their lips and the mingling of their breath.

Mickey pulled back first and Meadows made no effort to stop him. 'You're the first bloke I've ever met who kissed with his eyes open.' Mickey's voice was dizzy, exhilarated. ' 'Cept me.'

'First bloke? You've been with blokes before?' _I wouldn't have thought that of you; never. _

'Once. Long while ago. And ...' The unspoken coda was 'you.'

They both smiled; Mickey turned to face Meadows - _Jack, not Meadows, ever again _- and looked at each other in silence, thinking. Then Mickey leant foward and kissed Jack again, more deeply this time, looking into the blue eyes, so like his own and so close to him as well.

Eventually, they both sat up, breath searing their throats and half horrified, half escactic, at what they'd done.

'Well, Mickey, you planning on going in today?'

'Yes, yes, leave me alone.' He grinned wickedly. 'What about you?'

'My change of clothes are all here; yours are at your place so you'd better get moving. You might be a damned good kisser but that doesn't mean I'll excuse you being late.'

'Good kisser, am I? I'm good at other things as well.' His voice was suggestive, the look that he gave Meadows so brazen that it made the older man blush.

'You'd better be good at lightspeed travel if you don't want me bawling you out in front of everyone for being late.'

Pretending to argue, Mickey got ready and left.

Both men walked through the day in a daze, dreadfully aware that they'd crossed a line that morning so that they could never go back to the blissfully simple state of being just friends. If indeed, that had ever been the case, because Meadows was prepared to admit that he'd loved Mickey for a long while - a fiece, paternalistic love, but it was love nonetheless when he was old and married, and Mickey was young and free. Mickey wasn't concerned; he'd liked a man once before, and apart from that, it had been so long since he'd kissed anyone that he didn't mind who it was.

Jack was everything to him : friend, guardian, teacher so it didn't take much to extend that to lover. _I suppose I do love him..._The thought him smile and blush, so that Ken Drummand called over and asked who he was thinking about; the first time since Kate's death that anyone had felt able to ask him about something like that.

'Someone who told me I was a good kisser, Ken!' And although his laughter was bitter, he was laughing again, for the first time in too long, so that none of them commented on it.

'Oh yeah, what was you kissing then? Must have been your face, so she didn't have to look at your ugly mug.' Ken walked over and clapped him on the shoulder. 'Glad for you, mate. Good to see you smile.' He'd never met Kate but her photo had adorned Mickey's desk for several monthes, and he'd seen the DC's grief.

'Do I get to see a picture of her?'

'Uh, no. Might be difficult.' He endured another affectionate buffeting from Ken, then got left to sort out his work in peace. It didn't seem fair that Meadows, who had been as red as him earlier, was being left in peace.

'J-sir?' He just about changed what he had been going to say, aware of the others looking curiously at him.

'Can I have a word with you? My office.' There was enough bite in his voice to remind them all that Mickey had missed work two days ago, without explantion. It was only Cullen, out of the four who watched the exchange, who remembered and wondered.

Mickey looked at Meadows, wondered what he wanted and why he wasn't smiling, then Meadows nodded at some notes on his desk and realised that this was business.

'I want you to go and talk to Ricky Flintoff, see if he knows anything about that cocaine that's been floating around his estate. Say you're a friend of mine.'

'A friend?'

'For now. You know who I mean, don't you?'

'Yeah. Course I do.'

'He'll get you a good result.'

By the time Mickey got out the office, his mind was so full of case details and hints that he would have forgotten the episode that had taken place with Jack early that morning except for the DCI's parting words. 'I want a word with you later tonight, in private.'

'Bawl you out, did he, Mickey?'

'No, Ken. Just wants me to go and talk to one of his informants later on.'

'You look pretty happy with that.'

'Well, I've got better things to do this evening. See you!' A parting smile to the others and he was on his way, a song line that he'd never admit to knowing playing in his head. _Send it along, with love, from me to you..._

**A /N - All Mickey fans should be aware that there is a poll about bringing him back on Please vote**

**Disclaimer - 'From me to you' belongs to the Beatles.**


	10. I'm married

Meadows came round to his flat that evening, making himself so instantly at home that Mickey remembered the way in which his Dad would make himself at home after work - _but there's nothing else similar between them. Not Jack. _This evening, instead of ignoring Meadows as he had done the previous times he'd been here, he turned to kiss the older man, one arm snaking around the DCI's hips. Then the older men stepped back.

'Mickey, look. I need to talk to you. I'm married.'

'You said yourself that you'd rather have me there than her, an' she upsets you. Don't worry 'bout it, not after the way she was last night and this morning...'

'Yeah, well, this morning we were sleeping on the sofa together. She did have a point, Mickey.'

'Which is?'

'I'm your DCI. I can't sleep with one of my DC's - that's not right.' _Like you'd worry about that if he was a woman._

'I didn't see you worrying about 'right' this morning,' Mickey shouted and was ashamed of himself for losing control so quickly. The rejection - the second one in a few days from this man - hurt more than he could have believed any words could hurt.

'I wasn't.' _How could I think with him right there? _

'What's wrong, then? You said I was a good kisser - that hardly sounded like someone worrying over his marrige, did it? I thought you liked me.'

'No...I do. It doesn't matter... Look, whatever I feel, it doesn't matter, does it? I can't love you, in any way. I'm married and you're...you're...'

'Can't you? You saved my life - I'd've thought that was a pretty good indication that you loved me.'

'I never saved your life.'

'There were days when I wanted to die, an' I only didn't becasue of you, because you were there, holding me.'

'I'd have done that for anyone.'

'But you didn't. You did it for me. I thought - I always thought that you'd do anything for me - because I know I'd do anything for you.'

'Anything does not include sleeping with you. It doesn't bloody matter, Mickey; I _can't.'_

'Doesn't it matter? Isn't Mister DCI prepared to admit to having feelings for someone?'

'I can't, Mickey.' A frustrated growl now.

'So, you're prepared to be misrable for the rest of your life and stay with her, just because that's what you should be doing? Is that what you want?'

'Listen to me for a minute, Mickey.' _Please, Mickey, shut up so I can think for a minute without you twisting my brains. _'You loved Kate.'

Mickey took that calmly, more so than Meadows had expected. 'Yeah, I did. I loved people before I met her, and, and I was never in a relationship with her, anyway - she never loved me like that. I love her - always will' - and his voice caught - 'but she's dead, buried, for a while now. I don't see why I shouldn't get with someone else.'

'Another woman - not your DCI.'

'Once - a while before I met Kate, I was with a bloke. Its' whoever you like that you get with.'

'In your case maybe. I like women - I'm married.'

'So you sadi. You liked me enough this morning.' He was remembering their kiss; Jack holding against him in a way that was so different to how they'd been before. 'I was drunk the other night, but I was sober enough to stop this morning if you'd said. You didn't.

'I know...I like you a lot, Mickey...but, if, if it was just me...maybe that'd be different...I got kids, remember?'

Mickey hated hearing that; it made him painfuly aware that Meadows had other priorities and other people, while he had nothing and no-one. 'Would it - would it be different if you weren't married?' _It must be...that would be right for my luck, wouldn't it? Find someone who loves me and he's already married._

Meadows forced himself to look Mickey in the eyes, struck by how the blue had been shaded by pain and anger until it was nearly grey. _I did that to him...I caused that..._ 'Maybe - maybe it would, Mick.'

The affectionate diminative almost made Mickey smile.'That isn't really an answer, is it - Jack?'

'I'll always look out for you. Promise. Beyond that...' _Beyond that, I always thought I'd do anything for you, to heal you, and when it come to it and you asked, I'm too worried about a marriage I don't want, to say yes. It'd be so different._

'Beyond that...you don't love me.' His voice was brittle, the voice of someone trying not to cry from rejection.

'Sorry.' He moved to try and comfort Mickey; the younger man stared at him and moved away. 'What?'

'I always loved you. You were my fucking hero. So confident and strong - everything... You're not any different to the rest of them - just your reputation that matters, not me. You don't care...' The words were meaningles; he had to shout so that he wasn't thinking.

'I'm sorry. I can't - I really can't.'

'If you really can't, you would have said earlier. You wouldn't have kissed me like that.'

Meadows had to turn and walk away so that Mickey couldn't see his face. He went downstairs with Mickey's last yelled comment ringing in his ears.

'I'll get a transfer - you won't want me around. You don't care.'

_Oh, God, Mickey, I do. You wouldn't believe how much I do._


	11. Hollow

A/N - My apologies for the long delay; I have now finished my exams and left education forever, meaning updates should be more frequent. This is a short chapter, more of a linking scene between two major parts of the story.

'Hi, Mickey. How'd it go?'

'Ken, tell me something. Why do I always end up with the tossers or the married ones or both?'

'Like that, is it? Come and get pissed tonight, see if that helps. If not, you might at least meet someone else.'

Mickey did as he was bidden, trying to force away memories of kissing the blue-eyed Dalesman, but his dreams betrayed him that night and the next. Graphic, uncomfortable dreams that embarressed and thrilled him in equal amounts and made it nearly impossible to catch the DCI's eye whenever they met in work.

He felt as alone as he'd ever been; even though Meadows would still speak to him, he was reserved and edgy. _Meadows now, not Jack. I can't call him Jack when all he ever says to me is 'where's those forms or that statement?' _

He worked over the next three months. It wasn't that he'd been lazy in the past; he'd worked hard when him and the DCI had brought Chandler down, and he'd kept that workrate up. But now he worked harder, taking every case that he could. The more he worked on or solved, the more frequently Meadows needed to see him, either to sort something out or praise him, because he was still fair. For those brief seconds, he was prepared to work around the clock - and the more he worked, the better he slept and the less he dreamed.

It didn't help. None of it helped. He felt hollow, empty, inside, as if he could no longer feel. It just hurt so much that he stopped noticing the hurt. _God, I'm sorry, Jack. I would have settled with being friends, not anything more, and now I can't even have that, can I? _

Meadows wanted to talk - properly talk- to the blonde man so much that it hurt. It was only the white gold ring that he wore which stopped him, reminded him that he had a wife and children, however far apart they'd grown. It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair to treat Mickey like this, but he knew, if he could do it again, there was nothing he could do differently. _I'm married, and I love him, but even if I was free, I couldn't do that. Not go with another man - I just can't, but that's not a reason I could ever give him. _

Wary of revealing what he felt, he was careful not to talk too much to Mickey. _Because, let's face it, I can't think with him around. Perhaps I should just leave, get a transfer. That would be easier._

Side by side, they worked together through the summer, each aware of the other but unable to speak to them, each carrying their feelings mutely. DC and DCI, that was all they could ever be to each other.


	12. Can I ask a favour, Mickey?

It was October, a few days before Mickey's thirty-second birthday, when Meadows finally approached him with apology writ large in his blue eyes. Dejection showed in the DCI' s face and stance; Mickey, who had avoided him for most of the day couldn't tell whether the redness of his eyes was tiredness, tears or alcohol. He looked old, old as time and vulnerable but that did nothing to assuage Mickey's anger at the man who had ignored him for so long.

'Mickey, can I have a word?'

They both tried to ignore Cullen's barbed comment about favouritism, as Mickey walked reluctantly over to Meadows' office. Desprately, the DC wanted to lash out at Meadows, - _to make him suffer like I am_ - but he could not. He looked too broken, too sad to hurt further.

'Yes, sir?' He sat without being asked; the friendship they'd once had still allowing him that much grace.

Meadows looked at Mickey through the gloom of the office, and all he could see was anger. Trying to recall the affection, the love, that had shone in his eyes that day was like trying to rememeber a fleeting dream of the night before. 'Could I ask you a favour?' _It isn't like I've got anyone else to ask, otherwise I wouldn't have come to you. I didn't want to put you in this position._

'Yeah?'

'Laura kicked me out last night. Finally, this time. She's been after it for a while, since before that night... But last night, you know I was up at the courts all day? Got home late, and she thought enough was enough. Out there and then.' His voice was rough. 'I haven't got anywhere - not got the cash to rent straight off, not for a few days and they all want money upfront.'

Mickey regarded him steadily, so that Meadows could see the hostility in his face being replaced by pity. It reminded Meadows vividly that Mickey had lost his loved one as well, through flames rather than the slow progression of love to indifference to active dislike. He'd been spared that, but _he's lost someone as well. _

'What's the favour, then?' Somehow, Mickey kept his voice harsh, but every line of his body was saying something else, so Meadows was aware of how much effort was going into that; how much effort the DC had put into seeming unconcerned over the past few months. This sad facade, the dark shadows around his eyes, was the direct result of his stupid fears, of what he'd said to someone much younger and weaker than himself. _I did this to him, why should he ever do anything for me now? _

'I need somewhere to stay. For a couple of days. Not long term or anything.' _You'd probably be glad to see me out on the street, the way I've treated you._

'Stay or sleep?' Mickey emphasised the last word.

'Stay.'

'I've got a sofa you can have. _Or a bed, if you didn't mind sharing. I hate you, you know, and I can't say 'no' to you, because I ... I just can't. Love you too much, I guess. _

'Thank you.' The DCI was being formal; Mickey could have dealt with it better if Meadows had been more relaxed or shown any signs of the easy familarity that they'd shared even before Kate's death. 'Can I bring my gear round later?'

'Course. If you tell me what you want, I'd go get it for you, save you going in.' _Give me an excuse for talking to you for a while longer._

'No, no, it's okay. She's out at work.'

'If you're sure.'

'Honest. I'll be round about seven with everything?'

'Yeah.' Mickey caught his eyes, and the man who'd upset him was suddenly the man who'd protected and befriended him, aged and upset, but ... _Jack, not Meadows. _'Hey, I'm sorry...Jack. Very sorry.'

'I know.' His voice was soft, the Yorkshire accent strong. For a moment, they sat quietly, sadly, together in the dark room.

Meadows arrived earlier than he'd said, so that Mickey was watching MTV and hadn't tidied the place up as he'd meant to. The DCI had only brought two bags with him - a few sets of clothes, he said, and a few personal things he hadn't wanted to leave. 'Not much to show for a fucked-up marriage, is it Mickey?' There was forced amusement in his voice.

'What about the kids?'

'They didn't want to know. I mean, they're old enough, aren't they? Their choice...'

'Bad luck. You wanna sit down?' He led the DCI through to the main room and sat down. By being here, back where their relationship had first gone from being colleagues, some of the old simple pleasure in each other's company had returned.

'I ballsed it up, Mickey.' He slurred the words, sober enough to be disgusted with himself. 'Ballsed everything up. Laura, my kids...you.'

'Did yer best. You tried.'

'Could o' done more. Didn' need to say all that t' you other day. Lost you an' Lau and everything.'

'Not lost me, Jack. Not yet.' _Not that you didn't come close to it, you bastard, and if you treated her like you did me, I reckon you deserve it. But... I don't like seeing you like this. _

'I was scared, Mick. An' it all come true. Where's it got me? Scared of losing her and she went. She wen' and upset you. I did.'

Mickey wanted to hold him, look after him; could not because Meadows didn't want him to. 'I'm sorry, Jack. I really, really am.'

Eventually, Meadows fell asleep and Mickey sat and looked at him. Nothing more, just looked to remember all the little details that he'd forgotten. The short hair, no more than stubble, was greying rather chestnut now; the face heavier and more lined, and with his eyes shut, Mickey couldn't see the promise of care that had been there in the past.

'Love you, Jack.' It wasn't the response he'd imagined that he'd feel in this situation, after Meadows had rejected him, but he couldn't change it. He suspected that he'd forgive Meadows anything short of actual murder or rape - _although I can't imagine anyone wanting to fight him off, no way -_ and that Meadows was aware of what he felt.

'W'as tha'?'

'Nothing.' Mickey waited until he was sure that the other man was asleep again, then turned the lights off and went to bed, trying not to dream.

They got through the next few days in the same way - companionship reverting to the old friendship. It could have gone further perhaps, but something in Mickey was revolted at the idea of taking advantage of anyone, as it would have to be while Meadows was so upset. They lived together, and they talked into the nights because sleep brought too many memories for both of them. Sleep, or time to remember, to feel, was the enemy.

Kate was a frequent topic, as was anyone else still at Sun Hill. In unspoken consent, they left Chandler, Laura, so much of their shared past that was too painful to examine. Shyly, Mickey spoke of an ambition he'd never voiced before - to move to Scotland Yard - and Meadows told him about the NCS and the Flying Squad, and the reality that was different to his dreams. And they avoided talking about themselves, their relationship until the night before Mickey's birthday.

He wasn't sure if Meadows knew or not; birthdays had never been important in his life and he wasn't celebrating in any way beyond going out with Ken and a few of the others. But that was for tomorrow night, and for now, he and Meadows were here, eating Chinese and half watching the news. The silence was comfortable, relaxed rather than threatening so that Mickey hadn't felt the need to put his CD player on to reduce the tension.

Meadows finished his mouthful and turned to Mickey, holding one eye half shut to squint past the bright light. 'Mickey, can I ask you something?'

'Thought we were back on speaking terms, Jack. Ask whatever you want, except for the rest of the duck. I like that.'

'You're welcome to it. The other day, a few months back, you said you'd been with a man before. Would you mind if...if I asked who it was?' He flushed red, obviously uneasy.

Mickey gaped at him. 'I don't mind, but he would. He'd never be able to look you in the eye again.' _Well, not that he can anyway, but..._

'I know him?'

'Used to. Oh, I'd tell you, but... you know...'

'I understand. And that was like, your choice?'

'His choice - he tried it on. Let's say I was ... a willing participant.' He grinned with remembered pleasure, trying to picture Meadows' face if he had known that Mickey had been sleeping with one of his sergeants. 'Why'd you ask?'

'I was married. I said it might be different if I wasn't.' He offered Mickey a non-comitted shrug.

'Is it?'

'Don't know. Too soon.' _It is different; I don't know how yet, but it is._

'Okay.' Mickey nodded thoughtfully. 'Look, some of the stuff I said, I didn't mean it. But - some of it, I did.' Tentatively, he reached one hand to touch Jack's, the finger where the wedding ring had been. 'I like you.' He sat there for a while, their hands touching.

'Hey, let go. I wanna eat this 'fore it gets cold.' Meadows moved his hand away, smiled at Mickey, then got up and moved so that he was sitting next to Mickey on the sofa.


	13. Happy Birthday

Mickey managed to get through the next day - his birthday - and survive the drinking session without really thinking about Meadows and how the DCI and him had sat together on the sofa last night, _close, so close, like he wasn't thinking..._The bosterious company of Ken and the others, the ragged cheers as they passed him a pint and got him to down it in one, was very nearly enough to stop him remembering. But none of them were there in the pub because it was his birthday; it was a Friday night and they would have been there regardless. No-one had made an effort for him alone.

When he'd finished drinking, he had a headache and was unhappy in a way he couldn't define. It was days like today when he bitterly regretted his lack of family and was simaltaniously glad that he could be alone and peaceful for the rest of the night.

'Happy birthday, Mickey.'

He almost groaned; managed not to. He'd actually forgotten on the way home that Meadows was staying here and he hadn't seen him since last night anyway, Meadows having been off at a high level conference for most of the day. Greeting the DCI briefly, he walked in past him and sat down.

'I got you something.' Meadows spoke hesitatingly, pushing an unwrapped card box at Mickey. 'Hope it's okay.' Blue eyes met Mickey's; seeking approval until he nodded and Meadows settled down on the other side of the settee, never looking away.

Mickey opened the box carefully; couldn't help grinning. 'Jack...' It was an old programme, West Ham v. Chelsea in the old first division, and as he flicked through it, he found Trevor Brooking's signature on the centre pages, under the West Ham team list. 'Jack...thank you.' His tone of voice managed to convey everything; he'd shown Meadows some of his football collection a few days ago, but the Dalesman had lived up to his heritage and been more intrested in explaining some of the basic cricket rules to Mickey. _He listened...he knew what I'd like, and he got it for me..._

'Leave it out, Mickey. I don't do soppy.'

Mickey made eye contact with him again, ridiciously pleased not only with the gift but with their physical proximity. 'Don't you? I seem to remember you doing a pretty fair impression of it a while back.' Suddenly sure of himself, he half turned so that his face was near to Meadows'. No pressure; this had to be his call now that Mickey had made his mind up, and he didn't think he could bear it if Meadows made any other decision _because I want someone to love me, and I ain't got anyone else, have I? Has to be Jack or no-one, really._

'I suppose it depends.' _Not soppy, but...something. _Meadows cursed himself, angry as he felt himself begin to blush, and even more so as he saw Mickey grinning.

'Depends on what?'

'On who's around to see me, I guess. Whether or not they'll talk or laugh.'

'And if I promised not to do either?'

'Then...' Meadows paused for a second, then, with Mickey watching intently, took his wedding ring off and dropped it on the table. The white gold band cracked against the wood with a sound like a gun-shot. 'Then...I might consider it. Or something else.' _Stop smirking at me like that... I can't bloody think with you doing that..._

Mickey shivered as Meadows slid one arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. He'd been kissed plenty of times before - had shared a kiss with this blue-eyed man before - but he didn't remember it being like this. He'd kept his eyes open like he normally did, but for what he was consciousally able to see, it wasn't necessary. The tenderness, the unspoken awareness that he was dominating Jack, the soft pressure of Meadows holding him close - all that was enough to blind him to everything else, including his past.

Meadows kissed Mickey for as long as he could, then just pulled back and regarded him as he tried to get his breath back. Dimly, he was aware of Mickey's fingers playing against his chest, trying to undo his shirt buttons. _How comes it's different today? While back, I couldn't face it, and now... I want it almost as much as he does, I guess... God, Mickey... _'Will you stop grinning like that, Mick?'

'Nope.' He laid his palms flat against Meadows' bare chest, tilting his head back and silently asking his lover - _that isn't too strong a word, is it? - _for permission to take this further. _He's not married now, I'm not hurting anyone, not if this is what he wants. _Meadows - Jack - he couldn't think of him as a superior now - covered Mickey's left hand with his own.

'Jack?'

'No' yet.' It was a token protest only and he took the sting out of his words by brushing his lips across Mickey's stubbled cheeks, remembering the time he'd dragged a razor across it. Mickey jerked his head back, laughing, then leant foward and got Jack to kiss him again. It was then that they both realised the inevitability of this, that Jack knew they were going to end up as lovers, and that since it was going to happen, it might as well be tonight.

Gently, he pulled Mickey's t-shirt off without really noticing the band logo - Nirvana - printed on the front. A lyric from a different song was running in his mind. _You were there for summer dreaming...Winter dreaming, it'd have to be, and I swear I'm never going to tell you just how long I've been dreaming about this._

'Quit it, Jack. It's cold in here.'

'Fair's fair, Mickey.'

'No, it's not. C'mon.' Mickey lunged to his feet again, still laughing, and offered one hand to pull Meadows up. The DCI looked up at him for a moment, wondering at the shutters that were still shading his blue eyes, then he grabbed Mickey's hand and followed him.


	14. I love you Jack

Mickey woke first in the morning; his initial thoughts concentrating on how ill he was feeling. Then he realised that it was Jack laying next to him, one arm draped over Mickey's chest and he felt slightly better. He moved restlessly for a moment, rubbing his temples hard and it woke Jack, who stared blearily at him for a second.

'Good morning.'

'Morning.' Mickey echoed the greeting, then concentrated on watching his lover come round, stretching and yawning. Lover - what a word. How descriptive, how final. They were no longer just colleagues or friends - they were lovers.

'You alright, Mick?' There was concern in his voice suddenly.

'Bloody Ken and whatever he put in those drinks last night. Told me they were all straights, not mixed. Bloody weren't.'

'Awww, poor little Mickey.' Grinning maliciously, he leant over and kissed Mickey softly on the lips.

'It is 'awww', Jack. You okay, are you?' _Tell me you don't regret this, that you enjoyed it all as much as I did, because I don't think I want anything different for the rest of my life._

'Some people have enough sense not to give themselves a hangover as a birthday present. You live long enough, that might just filter through to you. Mickey' - his voice changed from loving and soft to abrupt - 'is that clock there right?'

'Clock? Uh, guess so. Why?'

'Got a meeting with Okaro in half an hour. Can I use the shower?'

'Can I share? I mean, it's your fault you overslept -keeping me up all night.'

_No, because neither of us would ever get in to work today. _'Sometime when I haven't got to talk to my boss in twenty minutes time. Get up.' Meadows obeyed his own words, crawling out of bed and dumping the quilt on the floor over Mickey's protests that it was too cold. 'Get up and get dressed, Mickey. It'll be much warmer than laying there.'

'You stay here, take the day off.'

'No.' Meadows walked out the room and over to shower, aware that he would have been more than happy to go along with that suggestion as well as the shower. _It wasn't what I thought it'd be... I thought he'd be aggresive or something, but he's so gentle, so..._He couldn't find a word for how Mickey had been so careful not to upset him nor to describe how Mickey had seemed more content to lie in his arms for most of the night rather than making love. _Different, really but...I can't blame you for prefering this..._

'You bastard, Mickey!' The water was suddenly icy cold against his skin, and he could hear Mickey laughing outside the bathroom.

'I don't see why I should be the only cold one, do you?'

They had time for a kiss, just one, before Meadows had to leave but even that set Mickey's heart racing. 'I love you, Jack.' It seemed a trite thing to say, a bit after the fact to be saying that now anyway but it was true.

'But, DC Webb, that doesn't excuse you from handing me the rest of the notes on the Raleigh case sometime today.' Meadows was struggling to keep the smile from his face.

'Whatever. How about if I barter something in exhange?'

'Go away.'

Meadows let himself out and drove to Sun Hill, very aware of the foolish grin on his face that came from Mickey's words rather than their night together. That sentance meant everything - loyalty, trust, friendship - and although he'd always offered that to Mickey, it was the first proof that he'd had that Mickey returned his feelings.

Mickey took a last look around the flat before leaving and saw Jack's ring, still on the coffee table. _Bloody Laura loved him as much as I did, once. Probably did. _Feeling unreasonably jealous, he locked the ring away with his other valuables and tried to remember that he had her partner now.

It was easy not to draw attention to themselves in the station throughout the shift. Mickey was hungover enough that he wasn't inclined to smile for most of the morning, while Meadows stayed in his office mainly, coming over to the general one just once to speak to Phil Hunter and touching his hand to Mickey's shoulder in passing. The others were so used to their casual friendship that cut across age and rank that the gesture didn't register at all.

_Is this his way of saying one night only? Not saying that he doesn't want to carry on, but just ignoring me? No, he'd say something, wouldn't he? _Mickey couldn't help his mounting apprenhension. _But I got one night with him; that's more than I thought I'd get so maybe my luck's changed. Couldn't call last night unlucky..._

'Mickey, you're smirking again. Share the joy?' Ken walked over to his desk, rapped on it to get Mickey's attention.

'You know I told you a while back 'bout someone who told me I was a good kisser? Last night, right, I got a personal appraisal on how good I was in bed.'

'Oh, yeah. She must have got you confused with the blow-up doll or something.'

'Cheers, mate. That's real nice o' you.' Mickey flicked a v-sign at him, laughing and blushing at the same time.'

'Anyway, I thought that all fizzled out, or something?' His tone was gently curious, that of a friend.

'There was a 'signifcant other' problem, but I won.' His eyes shone radiant blue. _God, Jack, I love you ... you've just saved my life, so don't let me down now...I love you too much for that..._He could hear Meadows pacing in his office, a steady familar sound that was both comfortable and exciting. Almost, almost, he could hear the warm Yorkshire accent, murmuring not loving terms but simply his name, repeated over and over like he had done last night.

'Mickey, if you're going to sit and daydream all shift, feel free. Just don't expect me to back you up when the DCI comes in and wants to know what you're up to.'

The DC smiled in response to Ken's comment, mentally repeating his silent plea. _Jack, I love you. Don't ignore me now, will you? Please - whatever you see in me, it's still there, I haven't changed; I still love you. Now more than ever._

He was still worried as he drove home; a worry that only ceased when he saw the smile that was his welcome back.

'Hello, Mick.'

'Evening.'

Meadows slid his srms around Mickey's shoulder, hugging the younger man. Mickey felt a sudden flash of deju-vu that bothered him until he remembered the first time that the two of them had stood like this - in the hospital, the day Kate had died. It was still a painful memory, but more of an ache than the piecing dagger it had previously been.

Mickey shut his eyes against the remembrance; let the older, taller, stronger man hold him close. And then the ache faded as Jack's lips found his, and he knew that they were alone together and it felt right.


	15. Love is God

A / N – Apologies for being away for so very long. First there was lack of net, then travelling, then lack of net again. Anyway, all sorted. How about 2 chapters a week for a while? There's 59 in total; yes, it's my first novel.

They were sitting together in the front room of Mickey's flat; the part which Meadows had tried to take over as his, then found out that Mickey had always lived alone and had no real idea of personal space, so they no longer bothered dividing the flat up. It was too cold to work or think, to do anything except sit and talk and be grateful that they were no longer at Sun Hill with the ineffective double-glazing. Mickey, huddled in a jacket and drinking orange juice in deference to the fact that he had football training tomorrow for the first time since Christmas, was trying to keep his composure. Trying to wind Jack up and failing, desperate for the older man not to know the extent of his distress.

'I guess it's colder in Yorkshire, Jack. You'll be freezing up there, and I bet it won't get much worse than this here. Reckon I'll have the last laugh on you for once.'

'Better not be any bloody colder. Seeing as I'm having to take some of my holiday leave for it.'

'Any chance of me tagging along?' He kept his voice light, knowing full well that there was no way he could ever go to a family gathering with his lover; that everything they'd shared for the past eight weeks could never be mentioned to anyone else. Mickey had almost got used to skirting the truth when the CID lads asked him where he'd been; especially after Christmas day, which they'd spent together only because Meadows had assured his children that he was on shift that day and therefore wouldn't be visiting them or Laura. Mickey had claimed to have spent it on his own at home, instead of out walking with Jack, standing by the Thames and watching the reflections of the lights in the water.

'You know there isn't. And it won't kill you to work.'

'Might do. Definite chance that it might.'

'It hasn't killed me yet, and I work harder than you'll ever do. But it's only a week, isn't it? I defy anyone to work themselves into the ground in a week, especially you. Just don't go phoning me, else Helen will want to know what's up. Whether I've got a secret admirer or something.' _I'm sorry, Mick. It shouldn't be like this, should it? Not keeping it hidden, pretending I can hardly remember your name when I meet you in work. I'd make it different if I could._

'Is Helen having her baptised or what?' 'Her' was Kara, the first daughter of the DCI's younger sister, born three days before Christmas.

'On Thursday, then I'm coming back Friday night. Didn't want to go to the church service of course, but Helen was fussing. Said I had to be there.'

'Why didn't you want to go? I would.'_ Mainly because I could have sat there and stared at you in silence for ages, but I would have gone anyway._

'You still believe in all that, don't you? I stopped having faith in dreams a long while ago, Mick. And I'd've thought...you...after Kate and everything, you wouldn't be able to believe in religion...'

'I don't get how anyone couldn't believe that all this was created by someone. All this, us, what it feels like when I'm with you...'

'Yeah Mickey, but us, I mean, you and me...'

_One day, Jack, you're going to have to come out and say that and I hope I'm there to hear it. Might have to hide this from everyone else, but not from us. Not that difficult to say, is it? _'Me and you are lovers.' _And I don't think I'll ever say that enough to stop enjoying it._

'So you can't be a Christian, can you?'

'I never claimed to be a good one. I believe in God; love is God, isn't it? And I love you - there isn't a problem for anyone there. There shouldn't be, anyway.' He smiled sadly at the DCI. 'Don't worry, I'm not trying to reconvert you. You know I won't force people into anything.'

'Only when they asked to be forced, right?'

'Leave that out of it, Jack. Please.' _Unless you want a re-enactment of it._

'You're blushing.' Meadows laughed at him, trying to lighten the mood.

'Am not. Jack, I wasn't arguing with you. You know that, don't you?'

'It's alright, Mick. It's not easy for me, either. Everyone up there knows I've left Laura, and they'll want to know why I'm so happy and I won't be able to tell them about you. I think... I think...' _it ought to be different._

'I think we're spending too much time talking when we could be doing something else.' _I wasn't blushing just then, was I? Tell me I wasn't, otherwise I'm never going to hear the last of it. _

'Some of us need to pack. Train goes at quarter to eleven, and I got to drive up there. A lot to do.'

'I'll help...if you want.'

'You couldn't help organise a piss-up in a brewery.' _Comes to that, you can't organise a drug raid on the Cockroft Estate without me holding your hand. Not that I really mind. _

'Did I mention helping with the packing? Helping, forcing maybe... Don't think that packing ever got spoken about...Anyway, now who's blushing?'

'Shut up.' Meadows growled at him, caught the DC in a rough hug. 'If I miss the

train...'

'I'll keep you so busy you won't notice that it's gone.'

'I said...shut up.' He whispered the words, strands of Mickey's hair playing against his lips.

'Make me.'

'Is that a challenge?'

Later, laying on the bed and watching the DCI trying to pack, Mickey was more aware than normal of the coldness of the silver crucifix against his bare skin. He'd only started wearing it again recently, as a promise to himself that he had a future now, and _if my whole future forever consists of Jack, that'll be more than I ever thought I'd get. Days like today and Christmas day, forever, even if no-on else ever gets to know._

'See you soon, Blue Eyes.'

'Yeah, right.'

Reluctantly, he got up and went to see Meadows off. Their farewell was a rueful smile and a kiss, no words needed to recapture what they'd both felt earlier - that this was right, meant to be. Mickey watched until Meadows was out of sight, then turned and went back alone into the so silent flat.


	16. You're coming back soon?

The loneliness that Mickey felt was something akin to an illness, as though something had shattered in his mind. The nearest he could get to describing it was by comparison; years ago, he'd read a sci-fi novel where men had bonded with telepathic dragons that they rode in war. And one of the beasts had died, leaving it's rider a half man, a shadow, for the rest of his days. Mickey felt like that man; all he wanted or needed was that familiar touch and contact that had gone so suddenly from his life.

In two months, he'd got used to not sleeping alone - the half empty bed felt larger than it had done before Jack had been there, and the room seemed darker even though he'd kept the lights on. Mickey half fancied that he could smell Jack's aftershave in reality as well as in his lingering dream but he couldn't and Jack wasn't there, and going further back, Kate wasn't there and the grey-haired sergeant wasn't…No-one was there anymore.

It was cold but airless, frosty, too late at night to be early morning but only just and he was alone. _They've left me…If Jack hadn't wanted me, this is what all my life would have been like from now on. Nothing more than lonely nights and days when there's no-one to speak to from morning till I get down the pub…God, Jack, I miss you…_Mickey knew the darkness well enough, as soul destroying as it had been the previous times when he'd felt it, and he almost welcomed it. The dread, the _depression - _he wasn't stupid; he knew the signs and knew what he suffered from - proved that he was still alive. Between Kate's death and the first night with Jack, there had been days when he doubted it.

Two o' clock, three, half three - Mickey lay in bed and waited, willing it to get light and he could conceivably call Meadows. _Shit, it's Thursday, isn't it? He's got to be busy today; I shouldn't go calling him up this morning. Not today, when all I want is to hear his voice._

It was an effort to get up and leave for work, the same as it always was when he was ill. It was even more of an effort to jog there, a decision made only because he knew he wasn't fit to drive when he was like this. The slow run was pleasant enough though, the slow ache in his lower legs comforting by it's very familiarity , and the physical work blanked out his thoughts.

He found himself at Kate's grave before he knew where he was headed, his alertness returning when he was kneeling on the frosted grass. Abstractedly, he glanced at his watch, realised that he had twenty minutes or so before being late for work. Mickey knew why he'd come here; the Church was one that he'd prayed in a few times even before she had been laid to rest here, and he knew that, if he stayed in Sun Hill, his bones would lie somewhere there. It was safe, as near as he had to a spiritual home.

And why Kate's grave…He knew the answer to that, spoke it aloud in case any vestige of her spirit could hear him. 'I love you, Kate. I miss you, almost as much as I miss him… So I guess I love him as well, but he's not you and he doesn't know what he's doing with me. An' know he's gone, an' I'm scared…I don't want to loose him, not Jack like I lost you…I can't loose him, he's all I've got left and I'm scared, Kate, oh God help me, I'm so scared…'

Meadows phoned him that evening, as if he had somehow been aware of Mickey's distress. 'Hiya, Blue Eyes. You okay, are you?'

'Fine, just fine.'

'What's wrong?' His voice was sharp but reassuring.

'Sam Nixon,' and Mickey sounded sullen even to himself. _He must be able to tell that there's something else wrong, mustn't he? Have to be brain dead to believe that._

'Apart from her? I mean, I know she's a bitch but…she won't be DI forever, you know. Promise. You going to tell me what's wrong?'

'I miss you.' It sounded like a confession to something shameful. 'You gonna be back soon, are you?'

'Saturday at the latest, Mick. 'Less - you alright to then?' _Because if you aren't then I'd be back there tonight, you only have to say but you're younger than me and one day, you're going to need me and I'm not going to be here, so I want you to be alright with this. But…I'm glad you're missing me._

''M fine. Just a bit down, that's all. I can't…'

'Can't what?'

'Nothing. It's not important. Look - how'd it all go up there?'

'Fine - she's lovely. Uncle Jack, now!' He laughed, amused at something that Mickey could see no humour in. The comment only increased the darkness, made him aware again that he had no brothers or sisters to bear children who would later call him 'uncle,' and that his father who looked so much like him, might still be alive. But if he wasn't imprisoned or dead, he still wasn't family, leaving his mum and Jack as all the family he could claim. _Two people in the world, that's all. The only ones and they're not here and it hurts._

'I can think of some better names for you, Jack.' He forced the amusement into his voice, trying to laugh so that he wouldn't cry.

''Sir' or 'guv' wouldn't go amiss when Okaro's around. I think he's getting a bit suspicious of 'Jack'.'

'That wasn't quite what I meant.'

'I know, I know. Not often I get to wind you up, is it?' _Normally because I can see you and that isn't conducive to being able to think. _'Look, I've got to go. Few people I've got to speak to, else they'll be saying that I'm being antisocial. I'll see you soon.'

'See you, then. Love ya.' Alone in his room, Mickey held the receiver to his ear long after Meadows had hung up. _For fuck's sake, Mick, get yourself sorted out. You can't get like this every time he goes away. He'll come back…He's got to come back…_

He was lying in bed before he remembered about Jack's wedding ring. He went over to the locked drawer without bothering to dress, racking through the few valuable things that he owned. Framed photographs of different people, ones that he couldn't face looking at but couldn't get rid of, a gold watch that had belonged to his grandfather, nothing worth much to anyone but him. And the DCI - his wedding ring had been here since Mickey's birthday.

He picked it up tentatively; it was too large to fit but he was able to slid it onto his silver chain and wear it as a pendant. Against his bare skin, it was something tangible and comforting, a link to Jack, so he was able to fall into sleep and dream of the Yorkshireman dreaming of him.

Meadows spent most of the night awake, knowing that Mickey had lied to him about being alright, knowing that he couldn't go back without embarrassing his lover and wondering whether that would be a price worth paying, so that he could hold him tonight.


	17. Female Competiton

Mickey glanced at his watch again, aware of his team-mates' scrutiny. Paul, his strike partner and one of the few who had been there when Mickey joined, elbowed him in the ribs, laughing as Mickey's pint slopped over them both.

'What you so happy 'bout?'

The Scots accent, so similar to Duncan's, made Mickey smile even more broadly. 'Well, I did get a goal today.' _And it's Saturday, so he'll be back in a couple of hours and it'll all be fine once he's here._

'You get a goal most weeks, you lucky sod.'

'Know.' He grinned, accepting the compliment because he knew it was true.

'So, what's all the time-checking and smirking for then?'

Mickey felt himself blushing; cursing silently, he buried his face in what was left of his lager.

'You got yourself a girlfriend?' Paul winked at him. 'Go for it.'

'Bugger off.' Mickey managed to slip out of the clubhouse about an hour later, speeding to the station although Meadows wouldn't arrive for a while. Sitting there, alternating between daydreaming and pacing, lifted some of the depression. _Come on, Jack. I miss you, miss you…_

The inter-city was running late, so that Mickey was pacing at the far end of the platform when Meadows arrived. It had hardly been a week since they'd been together but he stared at the older man as if he'd just returned from a year long, round the world trip. 'Jack!'

He looked up and waved. 'You coming over?'

Mickey jogged over to him, would have kissed him but for the other people around. 'You wanna hand?'

'If you're offering.' He handed Mickey a kitbag to carry. 'How's it feel to be a proper bag man for your boss?'

'For you, guv, anything.'

Meadows leant over to get something out from the bag Mickey was holding, using the moment when they were close together to whisper 'love you.'

'I know.'

They walked over to the car in silence, as close to each other as possible, senses working overtime to be fully aware of each other. It was only when Mickey finally persuaded the engine to start that they were able to speak freely.

'Are you okay?'

'Everything alright?'

They spoke at the same instant, then both urged the other to carry on. It was Meadows who took control, shushing Mickey and leaning over to kiss the DC on the lips, effectively preventing any conversation for the next few minutes.

'Ready to talk sense now, Jack?'

'Not with you around, no. Spoils my concentration.'

'Funny, whenever I use that as an excuse in work, you never seem to find it believable.' Mickey grinned shakily, but it was the catch in his voice that alerted Meadows.

'Have you been alright? Meadows spoke quietly. 'Really?'

'No. I had to call you, Jack…it was hard…'

'I'm sorry I had to go.'

'No, don't be…It's family, if you've got a family, they should come first. Just me, that's all. Being stupid - it was being alone. Lived on my own most of my life but I'm no good at it.'

'I'm back, alright…' Meadows touched Mickey's face gently. 'And I'm not going anywhere, okay? Staying with you.'

'I'm glad you're back…' _I don't think I've ever meant anything so much in all my life._

They drove back in silence, Mickey beginning to feel whole again. Meadows glanced over at him once, seeing what he was wearing as a pendant. _My ring - is he trying to be flash or did he really miss me that much?_

For a mid-January night, it felt unduly warm; the colours seemed too bright. It was something that Meadows had only experienced in the early days of his marriage. _Which I guess means that I'm staying with you, Mickey. For now, until you find someone more your age or something but I'll stay with you…Lover, because I think this is how it's meant to be. Just us two, forever, and I'll tell you that later._

'See you tomorrow, then, yeah?'

Meadows shut the flat door as softly as he could and stood waiting for Mickey to finish his call. The DC waved at him, smiling.

'Yeah, that's fine. I'll make dinner.' A pause, Mickey pulling a face.

'Alright then, I won't. We'll go out somewhere. I'll even pay, how 'bout that? See ya. Bye.' He dropped the phone, turned to face Meadows.

'What's this? Female competition?' The DCI managed a smile, trying not to be aware of the sudden surge of jealousy that he felt. He'd convinced himself once, four months ago now, when he'd first kissed Mickey that he had no real claim to the younger man's love - that if he found someone else, he'd let Mickey go. Now he realised that it wasn't the case._ I'd fight for him. If it come to it, I'd fight anyone who tried to take him. _

'Nofing like that, Jack. My Mum - you know what mothers are like.'

'I thought…' Meadows trailed off, worried about reopening old wounds. Mickey's conversation about his family had been limited to explaining the scar across his lower back and the reason he kept the lights on at night.

'We keep in touch. Not frequently, but sometimes she remembers that she's a mother and gets this urge to come by and make sure that her thirty-two year old son, the Met. Police DC is getting by without his hand being held.' There was true affection in his voice that Meadows hadn't heard since he'd been talking about Kate; didn't think that it had ever been directed at him.

'Don't I get to hold your hand, then?'

Mickey grinned at him. 'If you want.' He walked over to the front room and sat down, staring up at Meadows, who was pacing. 'You chuck thing at me if I pace.'

'Only because you keep it up for hours.'

'Jack?'

'What?'

'Look, she's coming round tomorrow. Would you do me a favour?'

'What like? Helping you tidy up so there's somewhere for her to walk?'

'God, nah. She'd think I was out to impress her or something, then she'd figure that I wanted something from her. No, just like, tell her that you're here 'cos of Laura, not me.'

'She doesn't know, then?' _Not like I've told anyone though, so why should he?_

'No, definitely not. She wouldn't like it - she was pretty sure that I was gonna get married and present her with a bunch of grandkids. Wasn't meant to be.' _Because even if I found a woman, then I wouldn't have kids…Because they'd be his grandsons, and what if I treated them like he treated me, because I don't know any different? _'Just, could you put up with the spare room for a couple of nights if she has our room, an' I get the settee?'

'I could go somewhere else for a few days, if it helps.' _If that's what you want, then I'd do it. But I'd like to see you with someone else, see you happy for once._

'Don't. She'll like you - like you a lot; just don't want her to know about - about us.'

'Why? Not ashamed, are you?'

'No.' He looked down, away from Meadows. 'I'm not ashamed but …I'm all she's got. No steady fella that I know of, no family 'cept for me, and she works so hard, all hours, but she hasn't got much money and nor have I else I'd give her some…'

_I know you would, and I'd lend you mine if I knew you wouldn't take anything from me, Mickey._

'So she's just got this dream that I'll give her a family, and it'd be wrong o' me to tell her that I hate kids and the last woman I loved got killed, so I don't. You understand?' He forced himself to meet Meadows' eyes, willing the older man to understand as he always did. ' I want you here, Jack. I want you to meet her, but…'

The DCI touched one hand to Mickey's shoulder, surprised by how skinny he was. 'You want her to meet your friend, not your, your…'

'Say the word, Jack. It isn't that difficult to pronounce.' _I want him to say that he loves me; that isn't much to ask. Just so I'll know that he thought of me as his lover once._

'Not your superior officer.' Meadows regretted the teasing instantly, as he saw Mickey's blue eyes shade with pain. Sometimes, Mickey was able to take his joking; other times, like this, he seemed unduly sensitive.

'Jack…' _Please…_

'Not your lover.' That was the first time he'd ever used the term to refer to Mickey; found it easier to say than he'd ever expected. It was a long time, years, since he'd ever used a term like that; it felt natural, enjoyable.

Mickey smiled and nodded as though accepting a compliment before getting up and starting to reorganise the flat. Meadows watched him for a while, awed by the love - and he could admit that now - that he felt for the injured, hurting but unbroken man who he lived with.


	18. Guess I do love you

'Jack, will you quit doing that?'

'Doing what?'

'Playing with my hair. It's not long enough to plait or anything, so leave it 'lone.'

'I happen to like your hair, Mick.'

'I like your eyes, but I don't stare at them the whole time.' _Well, I suppose I do but at least I don't poke him in the face while I'm doing it._

'Point taken.'

'All respect, if my hair is the most interesting thing about me, then I may as well give up.'

'Point taken. Again.' Meadows untangled his fingers from Mickey's hair, then draped his arm over the DC's bare back, holding him close. 'Good morning to you, too.'

'Morning.' Mickey shut his eyes and let Meadows hold him, loving the endless moment of peace and security far more than anything else in their relationship. He was half dozing when Meadows finally decided he had to get up, and insisted he did as well. The DCI always seemed able to cope with mornings, a skill that Mickey appreciated when it was turned towards making breakfast or organising that day's paperwork but objected to when it meant putting up with someone trying to get him out of bed.

Mickey found himself singing on the way to Sun Hill, half under his breath, and still going over what Meadows had said to him the previous night. 'Lover. He called me 'lover'.' The sun seemed to be shining a little brighter than normal for April, brighter than it had been since Kate's death.

Meadows found that Mickey's good mood was infectious; he had to hide his pleasure when the DC slipped into his office around midday. Mickey sauntered in without knocking, grinning as though sure of his welcome; an expression that altered almost instantly when he realised that Okaro was in the office.

'Oh, sorry, Sir. Didn't know the DCI was busy.'

Okaro turned around to shoot a withering glare at him; Meadows took the opportunity to wink at Mickey.

_Bloody quit it, Jack! Bad enough that I come breezing in here and found you having a cosy little chat with the boss; you trying to get me shot or something?_

'Don't worry, DC Webb. I'll only be a minute; you can wait.'

Mickey hovered uneasily while the superintendent and DCI finished their conversation about detection rates, trying not to let his thoughts show on his face. Meadows was dressed casually for some reason; a sleeveless t-shirt that was stretched tightly across his bulky chest and tempting Mickey to look.

'Okay, Jack, see you later. And DC Webb, try knocking before coming in next time, would you?'

'Sir.'

They waited for a few seconds after Okaro's footsteps had receded before laughing. 'Idiot you are, Mickey!'

'Yeah, well, not normally a problem with you having people in here, is it?'

'Stop drooling and start thinking. Look, what did you want?'

_I'm not drooling; your shirt isn't that effective, is it? _

Meadows stretched his arms above his head, catching Mickey's eye as he did so; knowing that Mickey was unashamedly staring. 'Earth to Mickey. What is it?'

'I just - just wanted to see if you're coming out this evening. Going for a meal somewhere. Me and Mum, an' you.'

'Course I am.' _And it was only yesterday evening that you asked me, so I'm sure you haven't forgotten. More like you wanted an excuse to come and see me._

'Good.'

The grin faded then, was replaced by a more sombre look as he sat down. 'Jack, there is something, though…You won't ask her about Ray or anything, will you?'

'Ray' was what Mickey called his father; they'd discussed it once before and Meadows was momentarily hurt that Mickey thought he had so little tact. 'Course I won't. I promised you, remember? Wouldn't ask anyone about things like that.'

He leant forward then, stage-whispered to Mickey. 'Tell you one thing, though.'

'What?' _Shouldn't have doubted you, should I? Not you._

'If she looks anything like you, I won't have a problem complimenting her on her looks.'

He kissed Mickey briefly on the lips - the DC was smiling again - and then waved him away. 'Look, I'll see you later. Go do some proper work.'

'Yes sir.' Mickey pronounced the words as sarcastically as he knew how.

'Get out. I'll sort you out later.'

'Look forward to it. Sir.'

Mickey ducked out before Meadows could throw something at him.

Rita had arrived when Meadows got back from the station late that evening. She treated him like a member of the family; a deeply loved but wayward and stubborn son - the exact same treatment she directed at Mickey. Mickey resembled her in colour, fair hair and blue eyes, and he was her son in the way he stood and in manner and speech. Meadows could understand both why he used her maiden name rather than his father's, and why she would be unable to accept their love.

Mickey took them out for dinner, aware that his cooking skills wouldn't pass muster and that Meadows appearing to know his way around the kitchen would seem odd. _And let's face it, I've been meaning to take him out for a meal for ages, and this is probably the one time I'll get around to it._

'So Jack, how comes you're staying with Mickey?'

He grimaced, wishing that she hadn't asked and beyond that, that he didn't have to lie. _I'm staying with your son because I'm in love with him. _'Personal problems. He was glad to find someone who could cook in exchange for somewhere to sleep. He's a good mate o' mine. A good mate.'

Under the table, Mickey kicked him on the shin but not hard enough to hurt.

'You're a DCI, though, aren't you?' Her tone drew attention to the difference in their ranks, showed the suspicion of authority that Mickey had inherited from her.

'So? He was good enough to take me in. And I go a bit easier on him in work sometimes as a thank you.' _Mainly because it isn't possible to think when he's staring at you, but…he doesn't need to know that._

'You do not!' Mickey protested. 'Two days ago, who was giving me grief over my clear up rate? Maybe I was imagining it, but it definitely looked like you!'

Meadows ignored him and concentrated on eating, listening to the easy talk flow between Mickey and his mother. Plenty of insider jokes, references to people he'd never known but he couldn't feel left out when Mickey's eyes found his, as they did so often throughout the meal. Or when Mickey rested his hand on his thigh under the table, both of them desperately trying to keep a straight face.

'C'mon, Missus.' Mickey got to his feet and helped Rita up, then reached one hand to Meadows with a grin that suggested he remembered doing the same thing on his birthday. 'C'mon lo-Jack.'

They both caught his slip; Meadows smiled because it thrilled him to hear Mickey calling him 'love' and Rita blinked and shook her head. She looked at them both, the way they were standing so close together without seeming uncomfortable and she realised but kept silent.

Mickey drove them back to the flat, both of them enjoying his jokes and constant talk that was designed to stop his mother from realising what he'd nearly said. The DCI took the car out once they'd arrived, staying out until the early morning to give them a chance to talk without his presence.

Mickey was asleep on the sofa, truly and deeply asleep so that he didn't even stir when Meadows knelt down by him. The older man swore as his knees cracked, stayed crouched in that uncomfortable position. 'I guess that I do love you, Mickey,' and the words that had choked him were so easy to say when Mickey was asleep. 'Always have done, ever since that day I saw you in Dagenham. Do you remember? You were just a DC by a few days, and I was over there for something, and you thought I was another DC and tried getting me to take on one of your cases. First time I met you…Still love you.'

He resisted the urge to brush Mickey's fair hair back from his face, knowing that he disliked any forced contact. 'Goodnight…Night, love…' Meadows could have stayed there all night, repeating those words. 'I love you, Mickey…'


	19. Let's go back to the start

'Where's DC Webb?' Meadows was starting to feel that he'd spent the entire day looking for the errant DC, who was, he suspected, hiding because it was accounts day. In reality, he'd only arrived from court a few minutes ago and most of the time had been spent checking on paperwork. It was mainly that he'd spent yesterday trying to get Mickey to hand him the forms as well.

'Dunno, guv.'

'Very helpful, Phil. Anyone else?'

'He as around earlier, sir. Uniform wanted him for something - Tony Stamp come up and collared him. 'Bout an hour ago, I think. Not seen him since.'

'Thanks, Danny.' _God help him if I find him in the canteen gossiping with someone. Having blue eyes isn't enough to make up for Okaro bawling me out over expenses. Not quite._

'Guv?'

'Yes?'

'Tony looked - serious. Like something was wrong.' Danny spoke softly, careful not to let Phil Hunter overhear.

_Nothing else can go wrong for you. You've got be alright._

'Guv, are you okay?'

'What - oh, yeah. Look, thanks. I'd best go…' _Go find him, make sure that he's okay. He's got to be alright, he would have called me else. He's fine._

Meadows nearly run down to the uniform area, breathing harder than his effort warranted. _Uniform come and speak to us, we don't go down to them and stay here. Someone would know if he was interviewing or anything; if he'd gone out on a case. I could phone but…if there's something wrong, I've got to be with you, Mick. _A quick glance into the canteen established that Tony wasn't around, and a quicker word with Gina confirmed that he'd gone back out on patrol. He couldn't ask her about Mickey; could still remember the look on her face the day of Chandler's death, when he'd been holding Mickey as if he never meant to let him go. It was easier to wander around and look for him than to trust that he could ask without sounding desperate.

June Ackland was in the sergeant's office, it's blinds dawn so he could only see silhouettes but the other person in there was Mickey. He recognised him as surely as his own reflection in a mirror.

'June?' He hammered on the door, didn't enter, and saw Mickey raise his head from his hands, look towards the door.

She came out of the office, her face sad. 'Sir?'

'Mickey Webb's there; can I see him?'

'Look, it's a bad time. Why do you want to see him?'

'He's my DC.' _He's my friend. My lover._

June shut the door but not before Meadows had seen Mickey screw his eyes up against the pain. 'Sir…There was a hit and run near the High Street…reported three hours or so back…His Mum - they lost her at the scene. She died - I told him.'

'No.' There was a roaring sound in his ears. The kind, loving woman whom he'd known for three days in person and four years through her blonde haired boy could not have died. Her son could not have been left alone. Her son - Mickey.

'Mickey - is he okay?'

'Just let him be for a while. Leave him alone.'

'He'll want to see me,' Meadows promised and let himself into the office. June watched the soundless exchange between the two - Meadows standing next to Mickey, careful not to touch him, Mickey looking up, putting his arms around the DCI's hips, Meadows leaning down and brushing his lips against Mickey's. Mickey nodding, getting to his feet and them kissing, then Mickey pulling away and weeping as if he felt safe.

'Jack? You heard?'

'Yeah, June said.'

'Ain't got an'one now.'

'Got me.'

'No - no. You ain't family, Jack.'

'I love you Mickey.' He was finally able to say it.

'Not the same. Oh, God, Jack, oh God, oh God…'

Their embrace was as platonic and innocent as it had been when Kate died, fuelled by grief rather than love. June, who had been able to tell Mickey, had to turn away from the look on Meadows' face.

'Jack…Don't you die…Don' you leave me.'

'I won't, ever. Promise. Love you. Love you, Mickey. I won't leave you, don't worry.'

'I wanna go home. Can you come with me?'

'Course, course I will. Now?' _Why didn't you call, tell me what had happened? I would have got here. I would have._

'Don't want to stay here.'

'Mick, give me a minute, just to get my stuff and speak to Sam Nixon about the accounts. Five minutes at most.' He kissed Mickey on the forehead, guessing that the contact would remind him that he was alive, then walked over to June.

'Can you look after him?'

She glanced at Mickey, then followed the DCI outside. 'What is it between you two?'

'You saw…I love him. We're together. He loves me…You won't say anything, will you?'

'Does anyone know?'

'We know. Can you please look after him?'

'Course.' She went back into Mickey.

It only took seconds to run up to CID, dump the paperwork onto Sam and his cases onto Phil Hunter who was the least involved when Meadows entered the office.

'Guv…'

'Not now, Sam. Not a good time.'

'It's urgent, Sir.'

'I don't _care_. Speak to the Super.' Meadows had time to realise that she was staring at him, open mouthed, then he was running down the stairs three at a time. Smithy was hovering outside the door, looking ill at ease but with the stubborn, worried defiance on his face that always made Meadows wonder why he had been unable to establish a friendship with someone who was so like Mickey. The sergeant stepped forward, physically barring him from going near the office.

'You can't go in there. Mickey's upset - leave him alone.'

The confrontation pleased Meadows; he wanted to hit Smithy, take out some of the useless anger on him. He clenched his fists.

'Smithy! Sir!' June pushed in between them, understanding that Meadows needed to fight but not prepared to let it happen here. 'Smithy, let him in. Mickey won't mind seeing the DCI.'

Reluctantly, Smithy stepped aside and stood glowering, his arms folded across his chest. 'Go on, then. Sir.'

Meadows let himself in and touched Mickey on the arm. The younger man was leaning on the desk, weeping loudly in a way that made his grief for his mother seem much deeper than his silent grief for Kate.

'Jack?' His voice was thick, his mouth full of mucus.

'C'mon, Mickey.'

'Don't leave me alone. Not for a minute.' Mickey laced his fingers with Meadows' and stood up. They walked down to the car park like that, Meadows acutely aware of the looks they were getting but unable to let go of Mickey.

'You wouldn't have thought it, would you? I mean Mickey of all the people…'

'Leave it out, Smithy! Especially now.'

'I was only saying…'

'Don't! Not today.'

'Mickey, is there anything I can do?' It was much later; they'd spent most of the evening sitting together, listening to Mickey play album after album on the CD player - The Clash, Nirvana, Joy Division - whatever was at hand and loud enough to prevent conversation. Meadows had left him alone only for the few minutes it took to collect what Trudy had brought with her and put it all in the spare room.

'No, Jack. Just stay here.' Mickey shut his eyes, leant against Meadows, mutely asking to be held. _Don't go, Jack. I couldn't take it if you left me._

'I'm not going anywhere, don't worry. Despite your crap music.' He left his hand resting on Mickey's arm, remembering that they'd sat like this when Kate had died. Remembering a song he'd heard earlier, a dirge like track. 'Let's go back to the start…' The lyric sickened him.

'You sure there isn't anything I can do?' Meadows repeated his question about an hour later.

'I'm going to bed. You coming?'

'What…?'

'Yeah. I want you there tonight. Please?'

Meadows kissed Mickey in return, as gently as possible. 'Whatever you want.'

'I want…I need to be with you tonight.' _Every night. Forever._


	20. Leave me alone

Work saved Mickey over the next week. He could pretend that everything was normal - indeed, had to while he was working - and slowly, it become so again. After that first night, he preferred to be alone to grieve and Meadows let him be. It took all the DCI's self control to sit in his office or stand in the general office and watch Mickey at his desk, staring blankly into space, without going to comfort him.

He'd had to take responsibility at first for organising things; tracked down the man that Rita had been seeing for the past year and persuaded him to deal with the funeral, so that the DC could throw himself into work. _Too much so, maybe, those rape cases aren't good for anyone to get too involved with. But…better than him spending all his time trying to sort out funerals, surely?_

'Jack?' Mickey called across the general office, not caring who else heard.

'Umm?' Meadows turned away from the display board and the photograph of Martin Delaney that he'd been staring at and walked over to Mickey.

'I'm not here tomorrow.'

'I know, you said.'

'Sorry. Would - would you come?'

'Why? Course I will, but…I hardly knew her…I'll be there if you want me to.'

'_He's_ going to be there. Paul wen' and got in touch with him. Been a long while since I saw him but…but…'_I couldn't trust myself alone._

'Him?'Meadows suspected the answer already.

'My dad. Ray. My blood dad - no more than that. He's nothing to do with me but…I hate him, Jack - it'd be worth thirty years or so.' _Worth it for lying upstairs listening to the fights and the swearing, even when I turned London's Calling up full to block it out, and for the scar that they all have to see when I get changed. Almost worth losing my job for, I guess._

'Okay. I'll - deal with it. Don't worry.'

'Cheers.' Mickey managed a shaky smile.

The service was over at Dagenham, where Rita had lived; where Mickey had been born and worked; where Meadows had first met him so long ago. The crowd was as small as Meadows had expected, given that Mickey had mentioned how small his family was, but their grief seemed real and he could tell she had been loved by them as much as by her son. Only one man there was obviously family - a short and lightly built grey haired man, who despite his build, had nothing of Mickey's colouring or mannerisms. _Has to be his father; Mickey would have introduced him otherwise._

Meadows stood next to Mickey through the internment, keeping one eye on the grey haired man. Even at a distance, he could recognise the pinched expression on his face, the subtly odd glint in his blue eyes. He'd seen it before occasionally - it was madness, sickness - not evil but just as dangerous. Mickey tried to avoid him, but the older man came over following the service.

'Mickey, how are you?'

Ray extended one hand to his son and Mickey ignored it. He clenched his jaw, shifted his weight so that the muddy earth underfoot made soft noises. _Don't be afraid, Mick. He won't hurt you - that's not going to happen. Not today - No-one's ever going to hurt you again._

'Been a long time, hasn't it, son?' There was something in his stance, as well as in his eyes, that Mickey didn't have - courage was the wrong word, but something like that. Dominance over Mickey was the nearest Meadows could come to describing it.

Mickey nodded, still as silent as he had been throughout the day. He swallowed hard, coughed, then had to swallow again.

'It is her funeral, Mickey - she'd like you to be civil to me, you know she would. She loved me.' The hand that he'd extended to shake was moved, so that he went to touch Mickey on the arm. Meadows caught a glimpse of a wedding ring in the dull light.

Mickey stepped backwards, managing to grind out three words without really opening his mouth. 'Don't. Touch. Me.'

'You're not afraid, are you? Not the big, macho, Met. Policeman?' The words were a taunt. 'That wouldn't impress the girls very much, would it now? They like their men to be strong - like me. You won't ever get anyone.'

Mickey was stood shoulder to shoulder with Meadows by now. 'Leave me alone.'

'Just showing a fatherly concern for your welfare, Mickey. Trying to make sure that you don't end up like you deserve to.'

He stepped nearer to Mickey again, one hand still extended in a way that was more intimidating than directly threatening. _Comes of having a copper in the family - he knows how far he can go. _He didn't step back this time, but leant against Meadows, willing his muscles to stop trembling. The DCI was suddenly aware that he stood taller than his partner; neither of them had appreciated that difference before.

'Leave him alone.'

'After all this time, I thought you'd want to talk to me. You're 32 now, aren't you? Haven't really seen you since you were 17.'

'You heard Jack…' Mickey half whispered his defiance._ He wouldn't fight for me, would he? Not this, I've gotta deal with it. Shouldn't let him get involved. _'Ray, leave it. Leave me.' _Please. Please. I thought this was all over. _

Meadows felt Mickey tense; was aware of what the DC was going to do. He stepped in front of him, blocked Mickey without appearing to do so as he lunged at Ray. _You can't do that, Mick. Not really, even though he deserves it._

'Jack!' Mickey snarled at him, trying to push past without actually hurting his partner.

'No!' Meadows let him go, turned to Ray in one swift movement so that he didn't see the blow until it was too late. For a second, there was silence except for the crack of bone as something in Ray's face broke, and Meadows' disgusted yell, partly for Ray and partly for the blood streaming over his hand. _Don't you ever do that again, you bastard. Not to Mickey. He's mine._

Ray staggered up to his feet, swaying slightly, and with the illness in his blue eyes even more evident. Mickey stepped back again, still giving ground, but the DCI walked over to Ray, as close to him as possible.

'You, leave.' Meadows growled at Ray, his hands locked around his shirt collar. 'And leave Mickey alone. You understand me?'

'It's my wife's funeral, if you hadn't noticed.' His bloody nose made his speech thick.

'It'll be yours if you don't fuck off, alright?' The DCI shoved him roughly away, waited until Ray had walked almost out of sight before turning to Mickey.

'Are you…are you…' his voice faded as Mickey sunk down to the wet grass by the grave and rested his head on his knees.

'I didn't want him 'ere, Jack, nor'd Mum, I guess, but…' He laughed grimly. 'It was good - seeing you hit 'im.'

Meadows knelt down by him. 'If you wanted to report him…' They'd never breached this subject before, because, until today, it had belonged to the past. _Mickey's past; not mine. Nothing to do with me._

'No. No. I wanna remember seeing you near lay him out; that's enough. An' Mum's somewhere safe now and I just want to forget all about it. Please?'

'Yes.' _And I spend half my time saying 'yes' to whatever you ask for, don't I? Not that it's ever much._

Mickey didn't look up or even at Meadows. 'Guv' - and that was the first time since they'd become lovers that he'd used that term in private - 'could you wait in the car for a bit? Please?'

The DCI nodded and walked off, glad that his breath misted the windows over so that he could only see the dim shape of Mickey on his knees for a short while but the image of him praying and grieving stayed with Meadows; long past the actual sight.

A / N – Unrelated, I know but if anyone reading this likes House MD, I'm writing my first fic on it. Currently 4 very rough chapters, looking for some guidance with it as my usual beta doesn't watch House at all. Very dark, lots of nasty stuff happening to House and a strong friendship with Wilson. Anyone interested, please email me at thanks to all my reviewers. You make this worthwhile.


	21. I can cope with Delaney

'Mickey, what's wrong with you?' Sam Nixon snapped at him.

He started, realising that he'd been staring into space instead of looking at the case notes. 'Nothing, ma'am.' The words, unmeant and false came as easy to him as telling the truth; being with Jack had stopped him lying most of the time but the old instinct was still there, his first line of defence.

'Pay attention then. If you've been bloody stupid enough to get yourself a hangover, go deal with it somewhere else.'

'Sorry.' Trying to show willing, he picked up a handful of the sheets at random and flicked through them; realised when he reached the end that he couldn't remember any details save for what Martin Delaney looked like. _He's guilty. And he scares me shitless, just looking at him. God, he does._

'So, what'd you think about Rachel Heath?'

'Who?'

'The first woman who was attacked. The prostitute. Did you actually read any of that?'

'Yeah. Yeah, course I did.' That wasn't quite a lie that he told her; he'd read it, but it hadn't made any kind of sense to him.

'Are you alright?' The edge had gone from Nixon's voice and that was worse than the accusation had been. He knew how to cope with suspicion and anger; sympathy from someone he hardly knew and disliked anyway was harder to bear.

'No, look…Someone I knew - was close to - died - funeral were yesterday. Ask J- DCI Meadows; he knows. I can cope; I'd rather be here than home.' _Because I would have had to spend more time with Jack and he's so angry with me. Couldn't have been around him any more today. Not after that._

'You sure?'

'I can cope, honest. I can deal with it all, can deal with Delaney.' _With you, him, everything but Jack believing what I said to him this morning. I didn't mean it, Jack, it was wrong, you know that. It wasn't me talking, it was... _He hadn't had an excuse; he'd been sober, Jack hadn't been threatening him, but he hadn't been thinking, and the words had come out and he thought Jack had believed it.

'Alright. Look, leave this lot to Romani or someone; it's no good if you can't think straight for it. Ken's doing a load of transcribing work for the same case at the moment, see if he needs a hand with that.'

'Ma'am.' Ken gave him a curious look as he gathered up some of the tapes and slunk back to his corner of the office, but none of them said anything. Mickey couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't really here; surely none of them would ignore him in this way if he were there? _But Jack didn't ignore you, and see where that got him; maybe he told the rest of them._

'You going to eat tonight, Mick?'

'Don't fink so.'

'You ought to.'

'Leave it out, Jack.'

'No.'

He'd given in eventually; he'd never succeeded in outlasting the DCI about anything that the older man had decided was important, and he didn't really want to. So, feeling sick, he'd choked down a meal and then dragged himself off to bed even though he would have preferred to sit in front the TV, because Jack had assured him that he had to sleep, and he trusted the DCI more than he'd ever trusted another person in his life. And for the first time in his life, Mickey had turned down someone's offer to share a bed with him; Jack hadn't complained but simply gone into the other room. All that, and it had been alright, even if he hadn't been able to sleep.

'Morning, Mick. How are you?'

He hadn't been able to reply; he opened his mouth to answer and found Jack kissing him. Mickey supposed that the way he responded had been an answer in itself; that the next twenty minutes or so had given the DCI a true insight into his feelings. He'd clung to the older man as if he were dying. Then the conversation had switched from the physical to verbal, then from pleasant to threatening, although Mickey had known, even then, that the DCI would never actually try to intimidate him. Maybe it had been worse because Meadows hadn't realised what he was doing.

'Mickey, look, when you were living with your parents...after, or anything, did you ever report Ray?'

'I don't wanna talk 'bout that.'

'Listen, it's not too late if you wanted to. I saw him yesterday, could support you on what he's like. Did anyone else know what he used to do? Friends, teachers?'

Mickey thought he'd laughed, then. 'You don't get it, do you, Jack? Fings like that, you don't tell anyone about it...Anyway, you don't have bloody friends when your dad uses you as a punchbag; they're all scared case he tries it on with them, and the teachers - how ya meant to speak to them about anything? No-one cares, it's too common for 'em to care.'

'I care.' That had rung with truth.

'No, you fucking don't, else you wouldn't keep asking me about it. I don't like talking 'bout it.'

'It'd be better for you if you could talk to someone about it all; even report him.'

'No it bloody wouldn't! I'd have to see 'im again, then, an' that'd all just make it worse. Just wanna forget it.'

'Mickey...'

'Fuck off, Jack. Don't want to 'ear it. Don't want anything more to do with you if ya gonna keep bringing all this up. Anything.' He'd shouted that last back over his shoulder as he stormed out of the flat.

He could still hear it now, ringing in his mind. He hadn't meant it, maybe Meadows had known that, but he'd lost someone he loved, the last person in the world he had left to love, because of it. _Maybe he'll leave; I couldn't blame him for that, because I drove him to it. I'll get home and he won't be there. _The thought made him feel physically ill. Or was it the memory of yesterday, the funeral and meeting his father again, that made him feel that? Or Delaney's photograph that he'd had to stare at?

He wasn't sure about any of that; what he was sure on was that he was going to be ill. Panicking, he scrambled to his feet and bolted from the office, with Romani's voice following him.

'Mickey? Are you okay?'

_No, yesterday, she was still around and this morning she's in a hole in the ground and I'm never going to see her again. And Jack...I'm not okay and I can't tell you that, can I?_

Vaguely, he could hear some of them shouting but it was too distant to register. He retched, tried to get rid of the tightness in his stomach but it was impossible, and he crouched down by the sink and wept. It seemed like a betrayal that he hadn't cried since the funeral and he couldn't stop. But fear was mixed in with the grief, and it was that which made him feel so ill.

Meadows come crashing in minutes later, with Terry Perkins dogging his steps. 'Mickey? Mickey, what's wrong?'

'Leave it, guv. Leave me 'lone.' That was for Terry's benefit and Meadows appeared to recognise it as such; he waved the DC away with the comment that Mickey was probably hungover and that he could use it as a warning to the others.

'Okay, it's just us. What's wrong?'

'Nothing... I'm so sorry 'bout what I said earlier.' He reached up and spat into the sink, trying to clear his mouth. 'So sorry,' and he couldn't manage that above a whisper.

'Hey, don't worry. Don't you worry.' He crouched down by Mickey, rubbing the younger man's back just for the contact, a way of telling Mickey that he wasn't alone.

'Didn't mean none of it.' The words were run into each other as he tried to explain.

'Hey, hey, I know. It's okay. You just worried about that, because if you are, it doesn't matter, Mick. I know you didn't mean it.'

'I never fought I'd have t' see him again. Thought I were done wiv all that.'

'Ray?'

He nodded a mute assent, his hair brushing against Meadows' hand, and he leant into that contact.

'He won't bother you again - he doesn't know where you live; you hit him, didn't you? And me - he knows to leave you alone now.'

''E hit' - that word was mouthed rather than spoken - ' me more than that. And 'e scares me - I'm so fucking scared o' him, Jack.'

'Don't be. Not of anyone. I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you, Mick. Never.'

'Delaney - ya look at them pictures of 'im, he's got the same eyes. Crazy...'

'It'll be alright.' He pulled Mickey to his feet, then into an embrace. 'I know you miss her, but...I'm still here, okay?'

_Get him off the Delaney case, though, that'll be best...Guess he can work with Phil Hunter for a while, he's got the sense not to ask questions. _If he'd been able to, he would have sent Mickey home and stayed with him, for however many weeks he needed to recover and sod everything else; instead, he settled for keeping an eye on Mickey for the rest of the day.

The work, Phil's brooding presence as they slogged through the notes and statements and the fact that he could hear Meadows pacing - that was enough, barely, to keep him going through the long day and the longer evening. But the fear of Delaney, who he'd never met, mingled with his fear of Ray and his aching grief and made him feel ill.


	22. What are you afraid of?

'See ya, Jack.' Mickey, aware that he was running late and that Meadows wasn't going to the station until much later, called the words back as he stood by the door.

'Wait a minute.' Meadows got up and walked over to him with the quizzical look on his face that Mickey had leant a long while back. Smiling reluctantly, despite himself, for the first time since that awful second in the sergeants' office, Mickey half turned and lifted his head to kiss Meadows.

'Love you, Mickey.'

'Yeah, right. If you hadn't finished eating, you wouldn't have got up to see me off. What am I, second to your food?'

'Get out of it.'

'Alright, alright, I'm going. You were the one holding me up.'

Meadows stood at the door to watch Mickey leave, both of them laughing. _He's going to manage, I guess. Long as he stays with Phil Hunter and not trying to make himself a hero by chasing Delaney…He's sensible, though. It'll be okay._

Mickey, sensing that he was being watched, looked back from the end of the street and waved to Meadows before he was gone.

'Mickey, can you give me a hand? Romani's called in sick and I really need someone to help me with these cases.'

'I'm meant to be working with DS Hunter, guv.'

Sam huffed through her teeth. 'DS Hunter can cope, I'm sure. Look, you've read the files. I need you to go and talk to Rachel, that's all. We had another rape reported yesterday, and we need to see whether she's thought of anything else. Any details. Normally, I'd send a woman, but…'

'Why me?'

'Don't whinge.' The normal bite was back in her voice, as though she had forgotten yesterday's discussion already. 'Because you can turn on the charm, and talk sweetly, so she'll trust you. Take Terry with you.'

'Why?'

'Because I'm acting DI, and the way you've been about Delaney, I'd've thought you'd be glad to have someone to watch your back.'

'I ain't got a problem with Delaney!' Mickey shouted at her, hating the way that she had seen through the front that he was trying so hard to keep up. The front that had actually fooled Jack earlier that morning.

'Okay, you haven't got a problem with Delaney. Do you reckon you could go get some evidence on him - without losing the plot?'

Mickey locked eyes with her and backed down first; he didn't want to draw Delaney's attention to him by doing anything like this, but he didn't want to argue with Nixon went he felt so tired. Her words physically hurt, reminding him of Meadows talking about his marriage and what rejection felt like.

'Yes, guv.'

Dragging his feet, he walked over to the general office and read through the print-out once more. _Does she really think I need Terry with me? _He turned a page and Delaney stared up at him in black and white; strange demon eyes holding Mickey's. _Quit being nervy, Mick. He's only a man like you and Jack…or my dad, because he's a man as well._

Before he had time to reassess, he jogged down to the car park on his own. He detoured to avoid the High Street, adding twenty minutes or so to his journey but aware that he could not drive that way and finish fit to do his job.

The interview with Rachel went well enough; despite her profession, she was pretty and quick-witted enough for Mickey to find her attractive. He sweet-talked, cajoled and near threatened her for over an hour, but she couldn't add anything to what they already knew, so he ended up sitting in his car and thumping the wheel in frustration, no closer to proving Delaney guilty than he had been.

The demon eyes in the photograph stared up at him still, making the hairs on his neck rise. He believed in evil as part of his religion and this man he'd never met seemed to be the definition of it.

"What are you afraid of?" Meadows, his lover, talking to John Bolton years ago, but the words rung in Mickey's mind now as if Meadows was next to him.

He answered aloud. 'Just a picture. Only a picture. I'm gonna bring him in. That's all; it'll be okay.' Fear making him shiver, he turned the car and headed towards the warehouse where he knew Delaney worked.

'Terry, where's Mickey?'

The shaven-haired man gave Sam a blank look. Haven't seen him since this morning, guv.'

'What about Rachel Heath? Didn't you go with him?'

'Didn't say anything about it, guv. Said hello to him, early, that was all. Is there a problem?'

'He's been out since half ten and I don't know where he's gone. Four hours.'

Terry shrugged. 'Try his mobile.'

'Already did; it's just beeping. No answer.'

'Battery's probably dead, or he forgot to charge it. He'll turn up when he gets hungry and realises that he's worked through his lunch.'

'Alright, I'll give him another hour.'

She managed half an hour before giving in to increasing panic and calling his home number; was relieved when it was answered. 'Hi, Mickey?'

'No, he's not here. Can I take a - Sam? What's wrong?'

'Guv? Have you seen Mickey anywhere?'

'Not since early this morning, before he went out. Why?' _He's just gone out on something, and got carried away. That's all; just trying to up his arrest record, that's all. There's nothing wrong._

'He went out to interview Rachel Heath earlier; haven't seen him since.'

'Who with?' _Let it be Phil or someone, someone who could look after him. And he shouldn't have gone after Delaney, no way._

'On his own. I told him to take Terry with him; I knew he was edgy about Delaney but he just went blazing off - didn't even speak to Terry. I only just realised that he hasn't been around for a while.'

'His mobile?'

'No answer.'

'You sure no-one's seen him? What about his car?'

'No-one. It was just that he was all uptight yesterday, else I wouldn't worry.'

'Okay. Look, tell uniform. Get Smithy onto it, they get on well together. There's one place I know he might be, though.'

'Where?'

'No, I'll go. If he's there, he'll want to be alone. Today, he will.'

'Yes. Guv - why are you round Mickey's, then, if there isn't a problem there?'

_What, beyond the place looking like a bombsite, with all his records across the floor and clothes everywhere?_ 'I been staying here for a while, that's all, and you know I was in court today? Well, my bit finished up and I couldn't be bothered to stay and sit through the rest, so I come back to get lunch…Sam, if you get hold of him before I get there; he's having a rough time at the moment. Look after him.' _Look after him for me, because I obviously can't._

Meadows slammed the phone down and run out to his car, panicking and reacting rather than thinking. He drove out as quickly as he could dodge the traffic.

Sam yelled her orders at the first uniformed officer she met; was lucky that it was Smithy, coming up to CID to check on Mickey. He'd seen Mickey the day before, knew how Mickey was struggling to keep his nerve, and was ready to start the search before Sam had finished telling him what had happened.

Mickey felt an echo of their anxiety; felt it alongside his own terror.


	23. I could have done something

A / N – I think everyone knows what happens over the next couple of chapters. Nothing too graphic, but horrific enough. Just a warning.

'Jack…' A whispered plea as he slipped between waking and sleep. Then, minutes later, mumbling in his sleep, 'Jack…' Seconds or hours after that, the cry for help since time immemorial 'Mum…'

Drifting, floating, almost pleasant as he come round again and saw that he'd only been out for seconds because Delaney was still standing over him. Or had the man been there all the hours he felt he'd lain there?

Memory flashed back, hurting him; then that blacked out as Delaney locked eyes with him. Demon eyes, like the picture, but real, the eyes he'd seen on a stained glass devil, boring into his from inches away. Breath, not foul, like he thought death would smell like, but quite sweet, a bit like apples as if he'd been eating them, blew into his face. Mickey twisted his head back, tried to bring one hand up to shield his eyes.

His hands were cuffed - steel cuffs, his own work ones - so the movement hurt and was useless. There was something around his lower legs, tight. More pain as he tried to kick out. His head hurt; he was trembling and shaking from the blow. The blurring of his eyes panicked him more than anything but didn't prevent him from seeing Delaney staring at him. The demon eyes were the image that stayed with him back down into unconsciousness.

Meadows drove as fast as he dared towards the graveyard, the only place that he could imagine Mickey being. 'Mickey!' The cloudy air seemed to throw the words back at him. 'Mick-ey! Mick-ey!'

No answer; he walked over to the freshest of the graves and then around the rest of the field. Mickey wasn't there, and Meadows was struggling not to truly panic now. He sprinted back to his car, then had to wait to get his breath back until he was able to radio in.

'He's not here, Sam. Any luck yet?'

'No. Got Smithy and three of the uniform lads out looking. Guv - do you think that he's okay?'

Meadows tried to think through the fear. 'Course he is. Reckon he's just sloped off somewhere to be alone for a bit. He'll be fine.' _He'd better be, because I'll kill him for putting me through this._

'Do you think we should tell Okaro?' She had to ask; no longer wanted to have the responsibility for dealing with this.

'Not, no' yet. Give him a while longer. And Smithy…is he alright with doing this?'

'He gets on well with Mickey. He'll go along with whatever we do.'

_And what Mickey sees in him, I'll never know. What is he? Arrogant, stubborn, trigger happy. _'Sam, look, I'm going out after him again. Call me if you find him, yeah?' The DCI put the phone down and went out.

In the months and years to come, he'd hate himself more for that than anything else he'd ever done. The shadows in Mickey's blue eyes was a constant reproach for the way he'd acted without thinking; a decision that couldn't have changed anything. And yet, the little voice always said 'I could have done something…I could have _found _him before anything happened…'

It was survival mechanisms that pulled Mickey back from unconsciousness a second time. The warehouse was brightly lit now; everything in it seemed to be either black or white and blurred, so Delaney was the only thing in focus. And it was swaying, swirling all around him; nothing except Delaney was real under the fluorescent lights.

'Hello, pretty boy.'

'Fuck off.'

'You are pretty. Anyone ever told you that? Very pretty.'

'Leave it. Fucking shut up.'

'So pretty. Now, come on, stand up. Get up.'

Mickey shivered, his muscles quivering so that he couldn't have stood even if he had intended to obey Delaney. For now, he had the strength to resist the command, deny the terror that was choking him, but he wasn't strong enough to keep fighting.

'Mickey, get up. Oh, yes, I know your name. Got your warrant card here. Picture don't do you justice - can't see your blue eyes properly. Come on - I won't hurt you. Not someone as pretty as you. Unless you like it that way. Do you?'

'They - they know I'm here, Delaney.'

'You came here on your own, Mickey, so I don't think they do. Maybe you're off duty, or something, or maybe they told you not to come here and you didn't listen. And I've got your mobile, so don't think about trying to get in touch with them. There was only one number saved on it as well, Jack's, so I don't think anyone'll be trying to call you.' He held up the crushed remains of the mobile, waved it so near Mickey's face that he tried to move away but could not.

'They'll be able to trace that.'

'Not until they realise that you're missing, and we'll be finished by then. Now, get up.'

'No!' Mickey screamed the word, the last of his desperate bravado gone as he tried to scrabble away from Delaney. 'You can't!'

'It won't hurt, Mickey. I won't do to you what Eddie MacGowan let happen to me; I won't hurt you. Told you - you're too pretty to hurt.'

Delaney grabbed hold of him, tried to pull Mickey to his feet. He lashed out blindly, kicking Delaney on the shin with his first effort, missing with his next because his vision was too blurred to see where his opponent was. Delaney had the free use of his hands, was fully conscious - this felt as close to dying as he'd ever been, and he felt worse as Delaney got hold of his belt and undone it, forcing his jeans down over his hips. He didn't know it was possible to be this scared.

He had to stand, every limb trembling, fear sweat making his remaining clothes cling to and outline his body, chilling him. The safe, welcoming blackness was hovering at the edge of Mickey's vision, but closer than that was Delaney touching himself and smiling wildly; closer still - the knife on the table.

'Matthew, Mark, Luke…' Mickey could hardly breath, forcing out the words of childhood prayers when he had enough breath. 'Dear Lord, deliver me…Dear Lord…No…No..'

The darkness was still there; he wanted, so much, to escape into it as Delaney come and stood behind him, held him, but the darkness faded. As much as he screamed and fought, Delaney was still touching him and no-one was answering him and it was a minute before Mickey realised that the voice whispering the Last Rites was his own.

'Come on, pretty boy. What a waste to keep yourself to women only, all this time.'

What a waste. What a waster…Mickey thought he could hear music, 'How Soon Is Now?' and that reminded him of Jack, made him wonder if Jack would mind him being late back tonight, and then there was just pain and it was too late for Jack to find him.


	24. I wanna go home

He'd been raped. Delaney had raped him twice. Twice, his body had been violated and abused by the demon-eyed man. And beyond that, Delaney had made him do things, forced him into actions like those he'd laughed and blushed about with Jack and turned it into torture. Delaney had had sex with him.

Mickey lay on the concrete floor, where he'd fallen from the table they had leant against. Not bothering to move or escape, let alone do his clothing up. He just lay there and after a while, stopped feeling and simply _was_, drifting alone in the silent dark. He'd prayed before it happened and nobody had listened; there was no-one there for the first time in his life because his God hadn't saved him from the one thing he could have done. He was alone.

He wondered why he wasn't feeling anything, surprised by his thought process. Mickey twisted his head to one side, trying to work out what the liquid crusted down the side of his face was. Blood from a tooth - the broken one that was lying on his tongue - or saliva…He hoped it wasn't from Delaney; knowing that it was but it wasn't hurting so maybe it wouldn't matter. He felt it should hurt but none of it was. He was just tired, so desperately tired, but he was alone and he'd got used to not sleeping alone; he wanted Jack here with him.

Maybe not. Maybe he wanted to be in bed, young again, with his Mum washing his face, spooning medicines into his mouth like she'd done a few times when he'd been ill and she'd not been too upset by Ray to care. She'd been a good carer, as comforting to be with as Jack, and he needed to be cared for now.

Oh, God, he wished that either of them were here. _No, not God, never again, just Jack, because he's the only one left. Jack. Jack. _And the blue-eyed Dalesman would lay down next to him, hold him until he fell asleep, because he was so tired and cold.

Holding onto that, struggling to keep thinking through the concussion, Mickey fell back into sleep, still on the concrete floor with his jeans and boxers around his lower legs. And because he was unconscious, he couldn't dream or even remember that he was afraid.

'Mickey! Mickey! DC Webb! Mick-ey!' A command almost, underscored by a cacophony of running feet, that reached Mickey on an animalistic level of awareness as 'friend' and woke him.

'Mickey, are you here? You alright?'

Smithy, running, stopping to shout, running again, getting nearer. Not Jack.

'Mickey!'

He hoped that Smithy wouldn't find him, because he was feeling something now and he thought it was shame.

'Jack.' Not understanding why, when he knew that Jack wasn't here and that he didn't want to be seen, he spoke the name aloud; shouted it. 'Jack! Jack!' The first time that he'd spoken since Delaney had raped him and suddenly he couldn't stop screaming. 'Jack, where are you? Jack, please!… I need you…Jack!'

'Mickey, where are you? You okay?' Smithy again, nearer still, hurtling into the room and then stopping at the door. A pause, long and silent, then Smithy saying softly 'oh my God… Mickey…Wh't happened?'

Mickey rolled onto his side, aware of blood running down his thighs, and coughed. Blood and things he couldn't consider flowed between his teeth and splattered on the floor. 'Jack?'

'DCI Meadows isn't here - I can get him if you want. Just me, Smithy, that's all. You okay?'

'Go away.' He coughed again, spitting out more blood and a tooth fragment. 'Please…Give me a minute. Go…'

Smithy stared down at Mickey, feeling sick. Mickey misread the expression on his face and felt the terror washing over him, afraid now of Smithy. _He's bigger than Delaney - stronger…he'll kill me…_

'Please?'

The sergeant turned and walked out without speaking, turning off the florescent lights overhead. The twilight helped Mickey, took some of the horror away because he couldn't see the wounds on his arms.

There was nothing he could do to clean himself up; it took all his energy to pull his jeans up and more dexterity than he had to do his belt up - he left it dangling around his hips. He got to his feet eventually, surprised that he could; surprised that one part of his body was still under his control, and walked over to Smithy. The blood ringed handcuffs that Delaney had taken off of him, so sure that Mickey wouldn't try to escape, were resting in his jacket pocket, digging into him. It hurt.

'Are you okay?' Smithy run over to him, raising one hand to offer support.

'Yeah.' Mickey staggered sideways, far enough away to prevent Smithy from being able to touch him.

'What happened?'

'Delaney. Hit me. Few times. _Hurts, _Smithy.'

They'd got out to the road now; Mickey's leg gave way and he staggered again, knocking into Smithy.

'Give you a 'and. Here, it's okay. I've got you, it's alright, Mickey. Won't fall.'

'No!' Fear leant him the strength to snap the word out. 'Don' touch me.' He spat more blood out - vomited it - and concentrated on walking, one leg and then the other, so that Smithy wouldn't have to support him.

'You need to go up to casualty.'

'No. Look, can you - can you call Jack?'

They'd got to Smithy's car; Mickey managed to get in and sit down, his one conscious thought being a hope that the blood wouldn't soak through and stain the seats. His wrists were bleeding as well, and his mouth; more blood than he remembered losing from injuries before.

Smithy sat down more slowly, staring at Mickey as he started the car up. 'You've got to see someone, Mickey. The FME or someone.'

'Don't. Wanna talk t' Jack.' He didn't care what Smithy thought; he needed Jack. 'You call 'im? Tell him…'

'Okay.' Smithy dialled the DCI's mobile and waited. Waited. Waited until Mickey wanted to scream but his mouth felt swollen shut.

'Not answering, Mickey. You want me to leave him a message?'

'T-tell DI Nixon 'bout Delaney. It was 'im tha' did it. Get him…I'll talk wiv Jack.'

'Delaney's not your problem, Mickey. Not today; don't worry about it. You coming to the hospital? I'll drive, it'll be alright. Can wait for you up there.'

'I wanna go home.' He took a deep breath, very close to a sob. 'Please. I wanna go 'ome. And speak to Jack.'

Except for giving Smithy directions to his flat, Mickey was silent for the rest of the drive. Smithy pulled up by his door, watched Mickey make two attempts at unlocking the door before succeeding but not going to his assistance. He could see the drying blood streaked over Mickey's clothes, the dull fear in his eyes; knew what it meant because he'd seen it before, other times, other places but he couldn't say it to the DC. Couldn't make it real.

_God, Mickey, I'm sorry. _Holding that thought like a prayer, Smithy drove away.

The water was as hot as Mickey could bear. Hotter. He could feel it burning on his skin, hurting, singeing. He turned it higher, whispering Jack's name to try and ward off the tears that were hotter on his face than the water.


	25. Come take care of me

Meadows drove to the station rather than straight home as it was nearer to where he'd been searching - the places by the river where Mickey liked to walk. The places that he'd got to know well over the past few months because Mickey had been insistent that Meadows came with him, to places outside of their house where they could talk freely and relax without worrying about being seen. He'd searched them at a run until he'd run out of breath, and then he'd driven around every place where he remembered Mickey and him visiting. Sam met him running up to the CID offices, her expression frightening the DCI because she looked defeated.

'Is he okay? Mickey?' _Who else would they think I was talking about?_

'Smithy found him. Hour or so ago, over at Delaney's warehouse. He tried to call you, guv. You didn't answer.'

'Must have been out of range. Is he okay?' _Course he is, he's got to be okay. Probably insisted on bringing Delaney in with him, knowing Mick. He's down in custody at the moment, booking him in and arguing with Smithy about how long they can keep him. Must have just missed him coming up._

'Smithy said he took him home. I think - I think that Delaney hit him or that there was a fight, something like that; he was in pain, Smithy said. Upset. That was why he was so desperate to get hold of you; I think he wants you to go and see Mickey, look after him for a while.'

'Alive.' And the love, everything that he felt for Mickey, was plain in his eyes but Sam didn't notice it, and couldn't understand why he was so concerned about the DC or why Meadows had been staying with him.

'Course he's alive.' She managed a smile. 'He got Smithy to tell me that Rachel positively ID'd Delaney. He was really insistent about that.'

'Find him. Find Delaney.' They were parting words, called back over his shoulder as he hurried back to the car park. _I promised him, didn't I? That no-one would hurt him ever again, that I'd make sure he was safe…That was all he ever wanted and I promised him that and then I let him down…_

'Mickey? You in, are you?' He paused on the doorstep and looked around, listening. The flat felt empty despite the lights being on and doors open as though someone had rushed through the house. There was no movement, no sense of presence.

'Mickey? You alright?' Hating the silence, he walked through the flat and over to the closed bedroom door. He knocked, waited, knocked again. 'Mickey, can I come in?'

_Jack? Come look after me. _He managed to call out 'yeah,' then turned to face the wall. He couldn't bear seeing Jack's eyes, the look on his face when he heard.

'Mickey, what's wrong?' The room was pitch dark and smelt of disinfectant. He could just see Mickey's fair hair, a patch of light in the darkness as he moved restlessly.

Mickey heard the DCI as he hadn't heard Smithy; heard real speech rather than a distorted sound and the loving voice robbed him of determination. _He raped me, he raped me, Jack. _In his mind, he screamed the words out; in reality, he stared at the wall and lied to his lover.

'Delaney hit me - knocked me out.' Mickey rubbed at his mouth, wondering why the taste of Delaney wouldn't go even after he'd made himself sick in an attempt to get rid of it. 'Head's killing me. Don't…don' feel well.'

Meadows walked over to the bed, stood looking down at Mickey. 'You want anything? Drink or something?'

'No.' _Wake me up; tell me it's a fucking nightmare, not real._

The DCI could hear Mickey's breathing; sweat was slicking his face and hair and the smell of antiseptic was strong, as though he'd bathed in it. 'You sure?'

'Yeah.' _Get Delaney, kill him, make this not be happening._

Meadows bent down, went to kiss Mickey, offering comfort in the only way he could imagine.

'No!' There was so much terror in that word that Meadows stepped back. Mickey sat upright, staring straight ahead rather than at his partner, and although the movement must have hurt his head, he didn't appear to notice. Meadows noticed that something about his appearance was odd; it took him a moment to realise that Mickey, who always slept naked, was wearing a high-necked blue top that covered his throat and arms.

Still fixated on someone or something that wasn't in the room, Mickey spoke to him again. 'Don', Jack. Don't touch me…'

'I'm sorry. Mickey?' He made the name a question, unable to vocalise anything else. _What happened to him? He's a rapist, Delaney is…No. Not that. Not that, not to Mickey…Anything but that, God, no…Oh, Mickey…Why'd you have to be so brave and go after him? _

'No, please…no…no more.' It come across as almost a prayer.

'Okay.' He paused, staring at Mickey as the younger man lay down again and turned away, pulling the quilt over his head as if to block out the light from the open door. 'Love you, Mickey,' and Meadows didn't think he'd ever meant it so much.

There was no response as he went out of the dark room, nor later, when he looked in at Mickey before making up the spare bed for himself. _Smithy would have said, wouldn't he? Smithy would have known…But Smithy likes him - he'd have kept quiet if Mickey asked him to, maybe…_

Mickey lay there, staring at the wall and the dark, wanting to wake Meadows up so that he could tell him, or at least sit with him, wanting to die there in the dark. He was cold as well, shivering but wiping sweat off of his face, despite having gone to bed wearing a top and jeans. Dimly, he wondered whether the cold was from shock or whether he was actually ill. _Can you die from this?…Would that be so bad?_

The images were there even before he shut his eyes and the voices were coming from the shadows. Delaney's thickly-accented speech mingling with Jack saying 'Love you' which made it worse, all overlaid with Smithy shouting to him. Closing his eyes made it worse, because he'd lain there with his eyes shut while Delaney forced him; he knew it would make it worse but he was so tired and he couldn't sleep with his eyes open. Eventually, he got up and turned on the TV, letting the flickering images hypnotise some of the pain away. Some music channel, loud and angry, that reminded him of happier days at gigs and festivals until a man who looked like Delaney was there, playing bass, and he had to turn it over, and there was a man speaking with the same accent.

He left for work at five; too early, but it was dark so that he wouldn't have to see any of the people he passed and Meadows was still asleep in the spare room. His head ached still; the cuts were oozing blood whenever he moved, and the pain in his mouth and between his legs was worse than it had been, so that he knew he wasn't really fit to drive or work. _Jack, I'm sorry, so sorry…I didn't mean this, Jack…Don't hate me…Please, don't hate me…_


	26. I let him rape me

The one feeling Mickey could hold on to wasn't fear or shame; it was a cast iron certainty that Meadows wouldn't want to know him now. Definitely wouldn't, because Jack was so strong and he liked other strong people, not victims like Mickey. The Dalesman worked with victims; he didn't love them, and it was easier for Mickey to be sure that Jack would no longer love him than admit to himself that he couldn't bear to be touched by anyone.

Later, when they tried to talk to Mickey, he had to admit that he couldn't remember anything between arriving at Sun Hill and finding himself in Meadows' arms at the graveyard. They told him, gently, but fearfully as though they no longer trusted his sanity, that he lashed out at Smithy, hurting him, and yelled at Sam Nixon and Romani before he'd stormed from the station.

Meadows, tactfully, didn't tell him anything else nor mention that Delaney was still not found. He didn't tell Mickey about the case board notes that now included 'DC Michael Webb' on the list of victims, nor the conversation he'd had with Smithy in the early afternoon; a conversation that would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.

'Guv?'

'Smithy? What is it?'

Smithy glanced at him, assessing; Meadows saw the younger man making the decision to trust him. 'Come in here.' He stepped into an interview room, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest and forcing eye contact with Meadows.

'What happened to your face, Smithy?'

The sergeant was tilting his head to the left, squinting to compensate for the bruising around his eye and spreading down his cheekbone. 'Mickey. It's nothing.'

'Mickey hit you?'

'Look, guv, he wasn't thinking. He didn't mean it.'

Meadows started pacing, five strides to the wall and back again. 'What'd you want? Why'd Mick hit you?'

'Because he asked me not to tell anyone, and I said no, said I was going to tell you, an' he lost it. Don't worry 'bout it; looks worse than it is, guv.'

'Tell me what?' _No, I think I know; because anything else and there wouldn't have been a problem, he would have told me. Getting in a fight or something, he would have been fine to tell me that. Oh, Smithy, he didn't make it any easier for you, did he? _

'I found him yesterday, over at Delaney's warehouse. You know that, don't you? I took him home 'cos that was what he wanted; that and seeing you but I couldn't get hold of you. I lied to Sam Nixon when I spoke to her, guv, but it was for Mickey's sake. Look, I knew what happened to him, soon as I see him there, I knew, but I thought he'd tell you. That would o' been best, if he told you, but I saw 'im this morning and I knew he wasn't going to talk to you, so I said I would, and that was when he lost it, guv.

'I told Sam that he'd been knocked around…guv…' There was a revolted look on Smithy's face, as though he felt sick. 'But when I got there, he was out of it; he was screaming for you to help him…Delaney just left him there, guv; there was blood everywhere, he'd raped him, guv. Raped Mickey.

'And Mickey, he was throwing up in the bogs this morning when I found him, so I tried to look after him, and he didn't want me there. Asked him 'bout Delaney, and whether or not he'd told you, then he took a swing at me and bolted. Not seen him since…but, guv, I thought…I thought I was doing the right thing for him by keeping quiet, but I had to tell you…'

Meadows stopped pacing, stared blankly at the wall. _Kill Delaney, break his fucking neck when I see him - he won't get the chance for a trial. Not now. Not now._

'Why'd you tell me, Smithy? Why not Okaro or one of the women?' _Because I know you don't particularly like me, and you sure as hell don't trust me - the feeling's mutual - and Mickey's your mate and you reckon I'm the right person to deal with it._

Smithy walked over and leant over the desk, his hands resting on the edge and his head hanging. 'Mickey loves you. You treat him like a surrogate son or something, and he adores you. Hero worships you, guv. He needs someone like that to help him now, and there's only you. If you tell him it'll be alright, he'll believe you - because he trusts you. If you can find him.'

'Mickey?'

Meadows crouched next to him on the damp grass, careful not to touch the DC. _When he came home yesterday, and I saw him, I should have realised… Smithy said he did; said that Mickey never told him; that he guessed…Why didn't I? I mean, I know him better than anyone else so I should have known._

Mickey's eyes flicked over to him, then back to the wooden cross he was sitting by. His whole body seemed tense, his eyes wild, but his breathing was very slow and deliberate, painful.

'Mickey? You okay with me being here, are you?'

The younger man didn't look up from the grass; except for that brief glance Meadows may as well have not been there.

'If you want to be alone, I'll go…It's okay if you do. If not, I'll stay here. Nothing more, you don't have to talk to me or anything, there's no-one else here, no-one knows where you are. Just me.'

The last comment seemed to reach Mickey; he didn't look at Meadows but he spoke, the first time that he'd heard Mickey talk since the previous night. 'W-who else knows?'

'Me, Smithy. He told me. No-one else.' The first deliberate lie he'd ever told Mickey. _I'm sorry, Mick, I always said I'd never do this to you, lie to you…_

'You?' He thought he'd known back at Sun Hill that Meadows had known; he'd caught sight of his lover's face as he'd bolted from the station but hoped that he was wrong. Mickey shivered violently; Meadows saw the involuntary movement and stripped his jacket off, handed it to Mickey.

'Put that on.'

Mickey obeyed so quickly and automatically that Meadows wondered if Delaney had ordered him around yesterday.

'You?' Mickey repeated the question, trying to vocalise what he feared. 'You know?' _And you don't hate me?_

Meadows glanced at him, refused to look away until Mickey had caught his eye for a fraction of a second. He saw the hurt, the shame, all filtered through terror and loneliness.

Slowly, he put one arm around the DC's shoulders. 'I love you, Mickey.'

Mickey didn't speak; he moved closer to Meadows and buried his head against the DCI's chest. The fear was still there, but it was somehow different with Jack here; he didn't have to keep up the pretence because Jack was there and he knew, it was alright, he was safe. Meadows was stroking Mickey's hair now, gently, fatherly, not with the usual mock roughness he used when they were in bed, and he was still talking.

'Just me here, it's okay, promise. Only me here and I know, stop acting. You're alright now. Look, whatever happened, whatever he done to you, I don't mind. I love you. You're not alone, I won't leave you alone. Do this together.'

Mickey gasped as Meadows touched a bruise on his shoulder, and that additional pain was more than he could take with the other pains and the confusion in his mind. He felt dirty and unclean; couldn't understand how Meadows was able to stand being with something as pathetic as him. Not Jack, who was strong and hard, brave, everything he couldn't be…

'Sorry, Mickey. Sorry.' Meadows moved his hand, aware of what he'd done, and the apology was worse than the physical pain for Mickey.

_Don't deserve it. I let D-him, I let him rape me. _'He raped me.' _I let him do all that to me, never stopped him…and Jack's apologising to me…_

'I know. I know what he did to you.' Meadows whispered the words, hoping that Mickey heard love rather than the hatred that was all for Delaney. _Why him? Has he got a sign on his back saying 'kick me'? He always suffers…Not fair._

Mickey didn't realise that he'd spoken aloud, didn't register what Meadows said. _I could have fought him more…he's stronger than me though, and I was out cold, so…But I'm a copper, not a, not a victim…_

'It's okay, Mickey.' Meadows shifted slightly, making sure that no-one else was there.

'He raped me, Jack, he raped me. He hit me and cuffed me, then he, then he raped me.' The last words were run together, desperate. 'I'm so sorry, Jack…didn't mean it, never led him on - didn' want him to do that. You know that? He raped me, I didn't want to do it! Not that…'

'I know. I know. I love you, Mickey, it's alright. I'm here.'

Mickey was sobbing, his words muffled by his tears and because his face was against Jack's ribs. He fought for breath to talk, every few words punctuated by a heaving gasp. 'He made me…touched me…Jack…he raped me…so sorry. You won't want…know me now, will you…B'lieve me…please…Jack, please.'

_It doesn't alter anything, Mick. You didn't want this, none of it. You didn't mean to hit Smithy; that was Delaney's fault, not yours. Not your fault. _'I believe you. I know.'

'He raped me.'

'Do you want to come home?' Meadows held him, waiting for Mickey to get enough breath to answer and looking at the grave where they were sitting for the first time. There was a wooden cross there - no gravestone yet - and two lots of flowers; the wreath that he'd laid and the blue rose from Mickey. Nothing else, yet Mickey had felt he had to come here instead of to Meadows.

_I can't promise I will heal you - I shouldn't have tried, shouldn't have got you involved in this case after all that happened…It's my fault…and you couldn't come to me to help you…_

'Smithy lied. He told you.'

'Ssshhh. Come home. Take you home…' _Anything. Anything to make it better, make you realise that I believe you._

'Delaney raped me.'

A / N – Thanks to all my lovely reviewers; you make this seem worthwhile. I had serious doubts about a lot of this fic but from your reactions, I guess I was being stupid. Happy reading.


	27. All Gone Wrong Again

They didn't need to talk for the rest of the night; Meadows went back to Sun Hill, leaving Mickey alone at his request. He suspected that Mickey was reverting to his normal lone wolf state of mind, trying to hide away as he always had done. If Mickey couldn't cope with the support that Meadows was offering him, then hanging around wouldn't help.

'Guv? Guv?' Smithy, hovering around CID long after his shift had ended. 'Is he okay?'

'How do you think?' Meadows walked into his office and Smithy followed, peering around as if he'd never been in here before. 'Look, Smithy, who knows?'

The uniform man sat down and met Meadows' eyes. 'Few of them. I got them to take his name and picture down off the board - Sam didn't think when she put that up - and then I got all of them who did know together and yelled at them for a bit. I lost it with them, guv, I've sorry, but they won't be telling anyone else.'

'Okaro?'

'He had to know, guv - I told him while you were with Mickey. Private, like. I didn't think that you'd want to tell him. An' I got Sam to get Phil Hunter out the way, so he don't know yet which is a blessing.'

'Delaney?'

'No-go. Sorry; I've got everyone I can out looking for him, but it's not easy to find someone like that. Apart from that, is Mickey okay?'

'I dunno, Smithy. I don't.' _And I'm tired and my head hurts and I've got to sit here to talk to you about Mickey when I should be looking after him. _'How should I know if he's okay? How can I know? He's been raped by another man; he's only just lost his Mum. How do you think he feels? He's just spent the past few hours crying his eyes out over at the graveyard, trying to convince me that it wasn't his fault, that he hadn't been trying to lead him on or anything like that…

'He thinks…that I'll hate him because he had sex with Delaney. He's' - a gasp for breath - 'he's more concerned about that than what happened. He thinks I'll leave him.' Meadows couldn't understand why he was telling that to Smithy, except that he couldn't mention it to Mickey without it sounding like a threat.

Smithy looked calmly at him, sitting with his arms folded across his chest, in an attitude that forcibly reminded Meadows that the younger man had seen active service in Ireland and killed a man for SO19. He looked older than his age. 'Are you sleeping with him, then?'

'Have been.'

'With Mickey.' There was no surprise or judgement evident in Smithy's voice, merely a mild curiosity. 'Would you leave him?'

'No.' Meadows answered without thinking. 'Never - not over that.'

'If you tell him that enough times, he'll listen to you. I was right then, wasn't I? He does love you; he'll believe it. Where is he now?'

'Home. He wanted to be alone for a while.'

'Let him be then, for tonight.'

'If - if I go back tonight, I'll have to sit and listen to his crap music for the evening anyway.' Meadows tried to laugh; managed a choking sob at the thought of Mickey sitting alone in the dark. He wanted to cy, thought it would help but the tears refused to fall as he sat with the man who was rapidly becoming a friend.

Smithy looked away, trying to distract Meadows and not wanting to see his distress. 'What music's that, then?'

'He-he gets a new favourite every time he goes gigging or someone gives him a tape to listen to. The Pixies at the moment. I - I put up with it for his sake, you know.'

'If I knew I was going home to something like that, I think I'd stay out as well…Look, boss, when I told Okaro, he was on about wanting Mickey to press charges, making a statement and all that. Do you think that he would?'

'If - if we've got enough on Delaney without that, I don't think he will. Too many people'll know - he don't want to talk about it.'

'Could you order him to?' Smithy regretted the question as soon as it was spoken; knowing it wasn't what he had truly meant to say.

_Order him? He don't listen to my orders anyway, and you can't order victims to do anything. Victims…I can't think of you like that, Mick, even if you are. _'I can't order him, Smithy, even if he is in my department. Not over this.' Meadows shook his head. 'And as for pressing charges - they won't have a trial if I get to Martin Delaney before they do. I'll kill him.'

Smithy grinned, a strange expression that narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth; more a snarl. 'Only if I help you.'

'Mickey'd like that.'

Mickey spent the early evening trying to look after himself. His head ached - his whole body ached - and he forced himself to choke down paracetamol, knowing that the drugs would stop him concentrating and maybe that would be a blessing. Scalding water and antiseptic cream for the cuts where the cuffs had been, making them ooze blood as he scrubbed at them and not caring. Deep-heat rub for his right knee that he'd twisted trying to kick at Delaney; the smell of it was familiar from football injuries, and it was almost comforting. Tissue paper wadded up in his pants to stop the blood staining his jeans or chairs; neither familiar or comforting but sickening.

He realised once he'd finished that he wanted to shower again; knew that it would take too much energy and that he wouldn't feel clean anyway. _No doubt they're having their fun now…Not Jack, he won't be laughing, but he must have told some of them and he can't care about me now anyway so he couldn't stop them…_

It felt cold in the house, so that he almost expected to see his breath hanging in the air in front of his face, despite knowing that he was wearing a heavy fleece jacket and that Meadows had turned all the heaters up for him. Mickey knew enough first aid to know that he was probably still in shock, that it was dangerous and he shouldn't be alone but he didn't care, because getting over the shock would mean feeling again, remembering…_And not yet, not yet, while Jack's not here…_

He got a heavy blanket out, sat huddled under it to flick through his CDs. Most of them, he couldn't face; the indie rock bands he followed were mainly those who sung of hopes and dreams. Eventually, he found a copy given to him by someone; an everclear compilation from America, and he stuck that on, jabbed the skip button until the fifth track. 'Laying in the bath with the roof on fire and it's all gone wrong again. All gone wrong again. Again…'

Mickey was asleep on the floor there, the CD still repeating the same track when Meadows come in later, and the DCI didn't see the sleeping pill wrappers as he stood and looked down at his lover.


	28. Nothing happened

'You want some breakfast?'

'No.' Partly a lie because he was hungry but he could feel the loose front tooth throbbing and he hurt so much that he couldn't face adding to it. Meadows handed him a mug of coffee; so hot that he tried it and gasped as it stung the damaged nerves and he had to spit it out.

'What was that racket last night?'

'everclear.' Mickey was aware of what Meadows was trying to do, and he went along with it._ If he wants to pretend that everything's normal, then I'll have to as well, else it'll be one thing too many that I've done wrong and he'll leave me…_

'Ever-something. I'm not sure 'clear' is how I'd describe it…You coming into work today?'

'Have to. Else they'll talk. And, and, he took my wallet - got my address in it - 'e knows where I live.' Terror flooded into his voice, ending the pretence that everything was normal.

'Mickey - talk to me.' He moved over to try and catch Mickey's eye; the DC looked down, then put his hands over his face.

'I can't, Jack.'

'Why not?'

'I don't, don't want you knowing what he did t' me.'

'I know what he did, Mickey. Make a statement, tell me all of it, and maybe we can use it to get him. And I want to know what happened, everything that happened to you' _when I wasn't there to protect you and look after you like I promised I would be._

'Why? So's you can get off on laughing about me laying there and Delaney - Delaney…' He couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't describe it to Meadows. 'If that's the sort of thing you like…'

'Mickey, no-one could laugh about what he did to you. I wouldn't, you know that, don't you, because I love you…If I know what he done to you, maybe I can help.'

'No, no you can't.'

'How'd you know that I can't?'

'Because…because no-one can. You don't know what it's like, d' ya? An' ain't you glad that you don't? I bet that was the first thing that you thought when that bastard Smithy told you - you were glad it was me and not you.'

_The first thing that I thought was that I should have told you not to go near Delaney, and told the others as well, so it wouldn't have happened, you stupid, stupid _brave _idiot. Too brave for your own good. _'The first thing I thought was that I didn't know where you was, and I wanted to be with you…There are support groups, you know. They could help if I can't…'

'All I want is, is…' _for you to come here and hug me, look after me but I'm too scared to ask you to… _'just to be left 'lone.'

'At least go and see a doctor, make sure you're okay.'

'I'm 'kay.'

'How'd you know?'

'Because I'm still alive, ain't I?'

Mickey got up and went to work, hurting, hurting, unable to say that to Meadows but knowing -hoping - that the DCI understood. They ignored him in CID, as if afraid of him, and every time any of them glanced over to his corner desk, he was working, so they saw no need to speak to him. _I'm sorry, you mob…Not my fault, no, and you can't catch anything from me so there's no reason to be like this with me, but I guess I understand it…Sorry…_

He kept his head and eyes down, trying to escape their notice - trying hard to be invisible as he wrote. Mickey was filling in the sheets by hand rather than typing, because that made it easier and less formal; he glanced back at the previous page and was sickened to see blood on it, stained through his sleeve and dripped over the paper, smearing the words. He blotted at it with his left hand and carried on writing.

It was a statement, as detailed as he knew how to make it. Everything that he could remember being said or done in the warehouse, except that he left out his screams and prayers for help. Everything, and he was glad that he knew the technical terms for writing up rape reports so that he didn't have to resort to the half joking words that he and Jack used in bed. Everything…_Jack, I know this isn't right, but I couldn't say it out loud to anyone, not even you…best I could do, this was._

'Mickey? You busy?'

He had to stifle a groan as Phil Hunter breezed over and peered down at him.

'Hey, you alright, mate?'

'Yeah, fine…Sarge, look, the DCI wants this soon as he gets in….Can't do anything else 'til later, you see…'_ Not really a lie, is it, because he does want a statement but not like this, I guess._

'What is it?'

'Nothing much.' _Leave me alone, get away from me. No, go away, I can't bear it, leave me alone…Please…_

'You sure that you're okay?'

'Course.'

Mickey waited until the office was as empty as it was going to be, then signed the sheets and stapled them together. He made an effort not to limp over to Jack's office, managed a few strides before the pain got to him and he stumbled.

'He's not in, Mickey,' Hunter bellowed across.

'I know. Just leaving this on his desk.' Mickey let himself into the office, glad that Meadows had given him a key a while back, and overwhelmed by how much the room reminded him of Jack. It was the feeling that he'd had when he'd first gone to the DCI's house; an awareness that he would have known it as Jack's under any circumstances. Normally, it felt safe; now it felt threatening.

Eventually, he decided to write a note to Meadows and leave it atop the sheets; the nearest he could come to a proper explanation to Jack.

"Jack, this is my statement. I couldn't have sat down and told anyone what happened. I'm not pressing charges so its not much use but you wanted to know so I wrote it. I'll be at home if you want me. Don't let them see this. Mickey."

He turned too quickly to leave the office, making himself feel dizzy and then nearly colliding with Sam Nixon outside.

'Mickey, what are you doing here? I thought, after Delaney and what happened…'

'Shut up!' He swung back to face Nixon, half raising his right arm. 'Nothing happened. Do you understand?' Dimly, he realised that the whole of CID were edging closer and that too many of their faces were showing understanding and pity rather than confusion.

'DCI said Delaney ra-' Mickey grabbed hold of her and shoved her back against the wall, right arm across her throat in a choke hold.

'Don't say it!' It was a low growl, panicked and revolted. _What does this make me, hitting a woman? Like Ray used to…_

'Mickey, leave it! Stop!' Dimly, he was aware of Ken and Phil Hunter running towards them, then Hunter catching his left arm and twisting it. 'Leave it, Mickey.' His fingers raked over the still open cut left from fighting against the cuffs and Mickey couldn't help himself. He screamed, both from pain and fear of having someone standing behind him and hurting him.

'What's wrong? Jesus, sorry, Mickey, I didn't mean to hurt you.' The sergeant let go instantly and stepped back, allowing Mickey space as the last scream died in his throat.

Meadows saw the scene through the open door. Mickey standing at bay in the middle of a semi-circle, eyes wide and face so white that his fair hair looked too bright and dyed. His mouth was open, as though he was breathing too heavily to talk, and he was standing awkwardly. Sam was rubbing at her throat, staring at Mickey, and the others were looking uncomfortable and trying to edge away, apart from Phil who was extending one hand to Mickey.

Then Mickey turned away and stumbled, almost running, through the door and past Meadows without even looking at him.

A / N – everclear are / were an American indie type band. Their name is always spelt with a small e. Mickey was probably hitting Napster again…


	29. Do you hate me?

'I read your statement, Mick.'

'Yeah?' Mickey was sitting on the floor, legs drawn up in front of his chest, and pretending to listen to the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. He'd been waiting for Meadows to come back for hours, ever since he'd escaped Sun Hill; now, all he wanted was to be alone.

Meadows walked over and went to sit next to him; Mickey scrambled to his feet and moved away, trying not to stumble.

'Sorry. Look…was it accurate, that statement?' _Please say it was, because if he did anything else to you that you didn't write down, I don't think I could take hearing it._

'I put…everything what I remember…No more than that - I blacked out at first, but, but…I remember all the fucking time, Jack, so accurately…I can't forget it…It's not, it's not lies…' _And I wouldn't lie to you…The rest of them, yeah, but not you._

'Do you mean it about not pressing charges?'

'Yeah. Not gonna - I can't.'

'You sure?'

'Shut up about the statement, would you? Just leave me alone…Please?' _I think it's the first thing I've ever asked you for, Jack, just being left alone here. It's not much._

Meadows walked over to him again and Mickey didn't have the energy to move away. 'Mickey, you promise, really promise that you'll go and see a doctor, and I'll not mention it. Won't make you press charges or anything. Deal?' _Like I could ever make you do anything…like I'd force you into this._

'If I go and see a doc, they'll make me report it. Have to tell 'em what happened. No way.'

'If - if I spoke to them, told them everything that was in your statement, all that Delaney made you do, and said I was dealing with the case? If I told them not to ask you about anything?'

Mickey looked up at the older man, almost making eye contact. 'If you told 'em as my boss, not my lover. Don't want them knowing about us.'

Meadows shook his head regretfully. 'When they do the examination, they'll want to know who you've been sleeping with before. Needn't say who; just that it was another bloke.'

'Okay.' And Mickey's body language was that of defeat and despair. He wasn't crying but Meadows suspected that was only because he was too exhausted. _It's not okay, it's never going to be okay again, and he's only acting, trying to be nice to me like we always are to victims. He doesn't care…no-one cares anymore and it's not okay, it's not and I'm scared…_

'Anything I can get you, Mick?'

'Drink. There's some Special Brew in the fridge; that.'

'You sure?' Meadows tried to catch his eye, surprised because the lager was his and Mickey normally claimed that it was too strong.

'Yeah.'

Meadows brought the cans over, gave one to Mickey and didn't comment when the younger man drunk that and reached for a second one. It was nearly silent as they sat and drank, just the CD now playing 'Scar Tissue' and Mickey's harsh breathing. Outside, it was getting dark and the flat was only dimly lit. Mickey didn't leap up to switch the lights on as he would once have done, making Meadows wonder if Delaney had left the lights on at the warehouse. It was almost peaceful in the twilight of the familiar room; they couldn't see each other's faces and they didn't have to lie.

'Jack?' Mickey's voice was very soft, barely a whisper.

'Um?'

'Do you hate me?'

Meadows answered immediately, suspecting that any hesitation would be taken as assent. 'I hate what Delaney's done to you, not you. I read your statement; I know it wasn't consensual. Mickey, it wasn't your fault, was it? It was something done to you; you didn't have a choice…How could I hate you for that?'

Swallowing hard, Mickey got to his feet again and walked carefully over to Meadows. Despite the dusk, Meadows could see the desperate tension on his face, the fear and the stubborn pride - the courage - that made him walk towards another man. _I guess that's why I love him, isn't it? All that stupid bravery, but he wouldn't be Mickey without it._

'Sit down, Mick. It's okay.' Meadows moved over, consciously giving Mickey room to sit without touching him. For a minute or so, Mickey sat in silence, listening to the last song on the CD. He made to get up and change it but the effort was too much and he sat back, sighing.

'Jack, I'm sorry. Sorry for causing all this trouble.'

'Don't be. You haven't.' Meadows turned to look at him, a dim shape in the dusk that was trembling with fear and exhaustion. Gently, very slowly, he put one arm around Mickey's shoulder. He tensed, then seemed to surrender and actually moved closer to Meadows.

'That okay?' This was the first time since the rape that Mickey had been able to refuse contact; he'd been so deeply in shock in the graveyard that Meadows doubted he could even remember the incident. Waiting for a reply, the DCI was acutely aware of the thin body pressed against his, and that brought back the choking anger he'd felt at reading the statement.

_"Delaney forced me to perform a sexual act on him…He had intercourse with me twice…There was no willingness on my part…I told him several times to stop…At one stage he threatened me with a knife…" _He'd been physically sick after reading the statement, unable to cope with the images it brought into his mind, unable to bear the disgust that he saw on Smithy's face as he read it in the DCI's office. Now, with Mickey beside him, it moved him almost to tears.

_But I can't cry, because I'd only worry Mickey, and…got to look after him first, not me…What's left of him, because he's a different man now, not the blue-eyed show-off who I fell in love with and that's Delaney's fault…Everything's going to be different from now, isn't it? Even if he still wants to be with me, it's going to be different._

'Jack?' His voice was odd, tired and slurred as though he was very drunk.

'Yes?'

'Sorry. Really.'

'It's not your fault.' He repeated those words in a whisper, watching Mickey fall asleep. 'It's not your fault; none of it is. All Delaney's fault, never yours. And I don't blame you, don't hate you; I still love you, Mick. I love you and it'll be alright…'

In sleep, the DC shifted his weight so that his head was resting against Meadows'

chest.


	30. Martin Delaney

Mickey had been dreading the examination and despite his promise to Meadows, he knew that he wouldn't be able to go through with it. They'd agreed, somewhere in the delirium of their first night together, that Meadows wouldn't pull rank outside of work, and the DCI had kept to that until now.

'You're going, Mickey.'

'No, Jack. You can't make me.' He was standing so near to Meadows that the DCI could smell the sourness of his breath.

'I'm your DCI and I'm ordering you to go.' Without thinking, he reached over and grabbed hold of Mickey's arm, leading the younger man out towards the car.

Mickey recoiled in terror but had to move as the DCI was larger and stronger than he was and using brute force rather than persuasion to get him to move. It felt like an eternity before he gathered enough composure to speak.

'Sir…No…' _Get off me, leave me alone, no, don't, I don't want to…You're not Delaney, are you, so don't treat me like he does…_

'Sorry, Mick.' The DCI sounded distraught; he stepped away from Mickey and looked down, ashamed of what he'd just done. 'I wasn't thinking…Didn't mean to do that.'

'You never fucking think, do ya?' Mickey stormed over to the car and got in the passenger's side. He glanced across at Meadows as they drove, almost wishing that he was telepathic so that he could apologise to Jack without having to speak to him.

_I'm not apologising to you again, Mickey, because I didn't mean it and I know you know that you have to go through with this. If I could make it different, I would, but I can't…_

Mickey strode into the examination room, not glancing behind him to see if Meadows was there. He sat in the small waiting room, the only one there, and although the room where they'd taken Mickey was soundproof, his mind wasn't and he could imagine the conversation that was going on behind the closed doors. _I can't promise I will heal you - never said anything about hurting you even more than the others already have. And I should have asked whether you wanted me there with you for this, not just assumed…but I couldn't have. I couldn't have gone in there with you, Mick._

'Mickey!'

The younger man staggered out, looked around for Meadows and then came over to him. Despite the pain etched on his face, he was refusing to let the nurse help him; the DCI got to his feet and held him. _It's alright, Mick, I'm here, and I love you. You're okay now._

'What's wrong? What did they do?'

'N-nothing…Jus' brought it all back…they have to touch you…' Mickey clung to him, desperately, forgiving him for earlier.

_And I thought this was going to help him. '_I should have gone in with you, Mick…'

'No.' He didn't raise his head from against Meadows' chest. 'You couldn't have done anything, then…'

Meadows laid one hand on Mickey's fair hair and stood there for a minute before leading Mickey out to the car. _Get him home and come back later, see what they say…Get Smithy to do it, maybe, or he can keep an eye on Mickey while I do…_Heedless of anyone watching, he held Mickey's hand as they walked, in a way that had nothing to do with support and everything to do with love and a desire for their old, easy intimacy.

Meadows' mobile rang as they drove; Mickey went to answer it, then turned apologetically to the DCI. _They'd realise that I'm crying - can't disguise that…Sorry, Jack, I can't even do that for you._

The DCI pulled over, mouthing 'Don't worry' to Mickey as he did so.

'Guv, it's Smithy. Where are you?'

'Just near St. Hughes. Why?'

'Someone's seen Delaney. Tony an' Reg are there already; I'm on my way, taking Kerry there as well.'

Mickey couldn't hear what Smithy was saying but he could see the sudden tension in Meadows' face. 'What is it, Jack? What's wrong?'

'Nothing - nothing's wrong. Sorry, Smithy. Where is he?'

'Is that Mickey in the car with you?'

'Never mind. Where is he?'

'I don't think that Mickey should be involved in this, guv.'

'Jack, what is it? What's gone wrong?' Mickey heard the panic in his voice and wished he hadn't spoken, ashamed of his weakness.

'Everything's okay. For God's sake, Smithy, where is he?'

'By the sports field near his warehouse. Hang on…Yeah, Tone says it's him; they can see him pretty well now.'

'We're pretty close, then. Tell Tony not to do anything until I'm there.'

'No. Don't bring Mickey with you.'

'Is it Delaney? Where is he? _Where is he?'_ Mickey was almost hyperventilating, grabbing at Meadows' arm in panic.

'Smithy, wait.' He covered the phone with one hand and turned to Mickey, resting the other hand on his forearm. 'Delaney; they've found him, going to arrest him. Do you want to see it?'

He didn't have the breath to speak; he nodded and mouthed 'please' even though the blood was draining from his face and he was feeling sick. _I don't want to see him, I don't want him near me but if I know he's away, then…_

'Okay, we'll go there.' He unmuffled the mobile. 'Smithy, I'm bringing Mickey over. Don't let them near him until we're there.'

'You sure that's wise? Sir?'

Meadows ended the call without replying and looked back to Mickey. 'I won't let him hurt you. Promise.'

He only half-heard Mickey's whisper over the roar of the hard pressed engine. 'Love you, Jack.' _Look after me, Jack. Don't leave me alone now…'_

Meadows hadn't expected Smithy to pay attention to his orders but as they pulled up at the playing fields, Tony and Reg were waiting patiently by the Area Car. Smithy and Kerry were out of sight, presumably at the far end of the field, and Delaney…he felt rather than saw Mickey's revulsion as they watched Martin Delaney strolling across the football pitch.

'You don't have to come, Mickey. No-one'll mind if you don't.'

'Gonna stay with you, Jack.'

'Okay.' _No, don't, you shouldn't but I've ordered you around enough today…_They got out and walked over to the Area car, Meadows being very careful to stand between Delaney, who was walking in their direction, and Mickey.

'Tony, Reg - Smithy gave you my message, then?'

'Sir, what's so special 'bout him?'

'Personal, Tony. Where's Smithy?'

'Down there, look.' He pointed out a couple walking briskly up, the man's arm around the woman's shoulders. 'Called them up when I saw you get here.'

'Fine.'

Delaney didn't look like the personification of evil as he walked up; he looked like a tired, mortal man. Below the level of the car door, so that neither of the uniform men could see, Mickey grasped hold of Meadows' hand and held it as Delaney drew nearer.

'Go, go, go!' It was Smithy who barked the command and run at Delaney; Tony, with less distance to cover, who reached him first, with Reg, Meadows and Mickey hard on his heels. _I don't want to go near him…Don't wanna leave Jack, either…_The three or four seconds of sprinting helped Mickey; it felt like freedom but getting nearer to Delaney and slowing down felt like a prison.

Delaney didn't move, just glanced around at them as Tony chanted the words. 'Martin Delaney, I'm arresting you on suspicion of assault and GBH…You do not…'Mickey couldn't hear the words properly; Jack was standing next to him but he still wasn't safe. 'Anything you do say…used…evidence…'

_I'm going to pass out…_He turned to Meadows, swaying on his feet as he tried to speak but Delaney looked at him. He had to turn back to meet that hateful stare, the demon eyes.

Delaney smiled. 'Not rape?'

Tony shook his head, exchanged glances with Kerry and Reg so that Mickey realised that they didn't know.

'Didn't you tell your friends, then, Mickey? Oh, I forgot, you don't tell people things, do you? You pray to your God and you scream for Jack while you're crying and saying that you don't want it, but you don't talk, do you? Because you think you're strong, special, an' you're not, you're nothing. You should be glad I took an interest in a loser like you. Mickey's a good name for you - little kid's name.'

They stood in silence, Mickey unable to look away. 'You were like a little kid anyway…Laying there like it was your first time, but it wasn't, was it? Jack - I can't think what he sees in you, whoever he is. I bet you haven't told him yet, have you? Trying to be strong.'

Mickey swung at Delaney, hit him so hard that he fell down. This was how Delaney had stood over him, laughed at him…He wanted Delaney to get up and make it a fair fight but…_kill him, it'll be safer…_He kicked Delaney in the stomach, dropped to his knees and tried to get both hands around his throat. Writhing, fighting under Mickey's weight, he managed to connect a left-handed blow with Mickey's shoulder but the DC kept his grip.

'Mickey, leave him.' Meadows knelt next to Mickey and spoke softly, not trying to break his hold. 'Come away from him.'

The demon eyes that Mickey was staring into were hazed from lack of oxygen; the man who had ruined his life was dying, but his lover was there, telling him to stop. Finally, reluctantly, Mickey got to his feet and watched Smithy handcuff Delaney and Meadows add more charges.

'You're also charged with assaulting a police officer, and for the rape of Detective Constable Michael Webb.' He dropped his voice, snarled at Delaney. 'And I'm Jack, you bastard…You understand?'

The rest of the group stared at Mickey as Smithy dragged Delaney into the Area car, but it was only Jack that he paid attention to. 'We've got him, Mickey.' Heedless of the others, Mickey stepped up to Meadows and embraced him, knowing that the DCI would look after him.

'We've got him, Mickey. It's okay.' He stroked Mickey's hair again, holding the younger man tightly.

Smithy glanced at them briefly, and began to bark orders at the others until it was only Jack, Mickey and himself standing there. He walked away from them, making an

effort not to listen to what Meadows was saying to his lover.

A/ N- People are still reading this, right? Please leave some feedback.


	31. I'm not good enough

'I can't do it, Jack. I can't go back there, ever again.' Mickey was stood by the window of the main room, staring out at the street with his back to Meadows.

'It's only a day on from us nicking him, Mick. There's bound to be talk - it'll die down.' _Only until his trial or something, or when Rachel gives a proper statement and they all start wondering whether he did the same to Mickey. _He hated lying to Mickey, but they both knew it was a lie, so maybe it didn't matter as much.

'I'm never going back there. Ever. I just can't face it…'

Meadows walked up behind him and stood next to Mickey, looking out at the empty street. It was very late; Mickey hadn't wanted to sleep. 'Don't quit.'

'I'm not. I won't. But…not Sun Hill.'

'Different department?'

'I'm a CID man, Jack, and even if I did - they'd see me around, wouldn't they? It'd be worse like that. I - I'll miss you.'

'What, at work? Look, a while back, you said you'd like to work at Scotland Yard. Still up for that?'

Mickey almost smiled as he remembered that conversation on Christmas Eve. They'd been laying in bed, Meadows trying his hardest to convince Mickey that it wasn't worth them getting up until the morning or maybe not even then.

"What do you want to be doing in five years' time, Mick?" he'd asked.

"Shagging someone rich an' handsome."

"No, seriously, in work?"

"Well, it'd be cool…to be in the Flying Squad or something. And shagging someone handsome."

"Sounds like you watched The Sweeney too much when you were you young, and are you saying that I'm not handsome enough for you?"

Mickey was surprised at how well he'd recalled that conversation. _Or maybe not, because that was when I realised I was going to be with him forever, wasn't it? _'I wouldn't be good 'nough. But, yeah, I'd like it.'

'You're good enough. I've got a mate in MIT - if I asked him, you could get a transfer. I'd second your application; Okaro wouldn't stop it.' _And I'd never stop missing having you around in work, but I'd let you go…_

'MIT?' A disbelieving note came into Mickey's voice as he spun to face Meadows. 'Where Dunc is?'

'Murder Investigation Team, yeah. You could do that.'

'Really? You think I could do that?' Mickey couldn't help the incredulous grin that made him look suddenly much younger than his thirty-two years. He hurt still; he was afraid and in agony but…_he really believes me! I could do that…_

'You were able to get Napper and his gang, weren't you? And Chandler - a lot of that was down to you, not me. You'd do fine.'

Meadows looked over at him, so beautiful and so strong. He wanted to kiss the younger man; couldn't tell if Mickey wanted that but even more, he wanted to take Mickey to bed - he'd got used to not being alone at night. _But that's over, isn't it, and I can't imagine him ever wanting to have sex again; Delaney's taken that away from me as well as from Mickey…_

'And you could get me a transfer there?' The look in his blue eyes was hope for a future, hope for freedom.

Wondering if he'd promised too much and worrying how Mickey would cope if it fell through, Meadows nodded. 'I'll speak to him tonight, and you must have some leave to take, so - a week off, and it'll all be fixed.'

'Thanks. Thanks, lover.'

Not thinking, fooled by the deceptive grin, Meadows made to kiss him; Mickey flinched away and the relaxed atmosphere of the past twenty minutes may as well have not existed. Mickey walked over to their room and laid down; Meadows looked in later and saw that he'd switched the lights off again, but not that he'd left the rest of the sleeping pills on the floor.

The DCI spent the rest of the evening trying to get in touch with people, reorganising Mickey's life while he lay sleeping. Okaro was sympathetic, even saying that Mickey would have ended up in Scotland Yard eventually, although Meadows wondered if his attitude was influenced by wanting a potential loose cannon out of the way. His friend at MIT, Superintendent Wilson, was less enthusiastic as Meadows refused to give any reason why Mickey needed the transfer so urgently, but he alternated between begging and recalling past favours until it was agreed that there would be a job for Mickey starting next week. Smithy didn't answer; Meadows had wanted to ask him to pick up the medical reports.

It was the last call which was hardest to make. 'Hello? Duncan?'

'Guv?' The thick Scottish accent was instantly familiar. 'What is it?'

'Are you still at MIT?'

'Yes. DS now.'

'Well done. I hadn't heard.' He would have said more but the image of Mickey laying alone drove him to hurry; he wanted to be with him.

'Well, I'm not the sort to go broadcasting it. What do you want, taking it this isn't a social call after all this time?'

Meadows swallowed hard, already hating himself for betraying Mickey's secret. 'You remember Mickey Webb, don't you?' _I hope so, because I only chose MIT for him because I knew you were there and that you'd got on with him._

'Who doesn't? Is he okay?'

'I need a favour, Dunc. I can't order you to do it, but…as a friend, that's all I can ask you as…'

'If it's for Mickey, I'll do it if I can. What's with him?'

'Mickey's coming to work with you lot, a week today. Permanent move, once his week's leave is up. I want you to look after him. Really, really look after him, and keep in touch with me, tell me how he's doing.'

Duncan was silent for a moment, considering. 'I thought he was happy there. What happened?'

_Don't make me say it again. _'He doesn't want to go back to Sun Hill at all, so I said I'd get him a transfer. MIT was what he wanted.' _Don't cry. Don't think about him trying to run away from everything and you telling them, so that he can't._

'Guv…you wouldn't usually do all that, wouldn't want me to report about him. What's wrong, what's happened?'

'A few days ago - he was raped.' Saying it made him fell physically sick; it was his lover they were talking about; the man who was his, heart and soul.

Duncan didn't reply; Meadows could imagine his warm smile being replaced by true concern, and he was glad, suddenly, that he'd told Duncan rather than anyone else. _He'll look after Mickey, he'll keep quiet. '_He tried to arrest a fellow called Martin Delaney, on his own…Delaney, we've got him now but not before he told a bunch of uniform lads exactly what he did to Mickey.'

'He was trying to keep it quiet, then?'

'Yeah - trying. You'll look after him?' _Please - someone's got to._

'Course.' It was an honest, instinctive response. 'If he works with me at first, he'll just think that it's because the DI knows I used to work with him and show him the ropes. Won't he keep in touch with you, though?'

'I dunno.' He'd considered that possibility how many times over the past few days. _I know what happened, and I held him when he was crying…I must remind him of all that. But…if having me around hurts him, then I'd be quite happy never to speak to him again, for his sake. _'I don't think - I don't think that he'll want to.'

'Oh.' Duncan had enough sensitivity to realise that there was something else that Meadows hadn't told him but he didn't question it. 'I'll keep an eye on him…Guv, what would you have done if I wasn't still at MIT?'

'I wouldn't have let him go there. He shouldn't be on his own.'

'He won't be. He'll be alright.'

'Thanks.' He finished the call and went in to check on Mickey again. He was still asleep; looking so vulnerable laying in the dark with another high-necked top on that it broke Meadows' heart. He felt tears burning in his eyes for the first time since Smithy had told him.

_We've got him in the cells; I could have let you kill him yesterday - that was what you were trying to do, wasn't it? - and it wouldn't have helped because you still wouldn't have wanted to come back. Still would have lost you. _

_I should have kept looking for him when Sam called, or been here when Smithy brought him back or something. Should have done something more…anything…and maybe I wouldn't have lost him but I let him down._

A fragment of nightmare reached Mickey through the tablets and he called out aloud, voice wavering, without opening his eyes. Meadows didn't hear over his own weeping, or see how Mickey reached out to where he normally slept, trying to find the

one person he still had left.


	32. Be lucky

'Mick, I've got everything of yours from work. Didn't know what you wanted, so I just got everything from your desk, except for the bits that looked like they were going to spontaneously start moving.' He dropped the carrier bag next to Mickey, who was staring at a western film without watching it.

'Cheers. Did - did they say anything 'bout me?' It had been three days since he'd asked for a transfer and he'd refrained from asking about CID since then. _Because if I knew too much, I'd be wanting to go back there, just to see them again, and I couldn't do that. Not walk through that door, never, ever again._

'Phil asked if you were okay, Ken wanted to know where you were going; he guessed you were leaving when he saw me clearing your desk. I just said MIT. That was all.'

'Not much of a bloody send-off, is it? Least John Boulton got a wake.' _Maybe that would have been better for me as well; be better than worrying over a new job when I didn't think I'd ever leave Sun Hill. _'I'll miss Ken. Not his shirts, mind, but he's alright, he is.'

'Mickey, this doesn't have to be permanent; you could come back anytime. And they'd like it if you kept in touch.'

'No, no. If no-one at MIT knows, I can leave it be'ind me. Try to. Be better like that. None of them know, do they?' _No, because you'd never betray me like that despite how I've been since then. You wouldn't let me down, ever._

'No. Just told the superintendent there that it was personal trouble.' _Not that he won't find out eventually, because you'll need time off for the trial, and I told Duncan everything so that he can look after you. _'He said he'd get Duncan Lennox to show you the ropes, if that's okay with you.'

'Fine.' He started sorting through the bag, discarding most of it without comment, pausing only to show Meadows a photograph he'd put in one of the drawers and forgotten about. 'Look, Rod's do at the Dog and Gun.'

Meadows had to smile looking at it. Mickey, Kerry, Danny, Rod in the middle with a microphone and beer foam on his lips, John and Don caught scuffling, Claire hovering on the edge of the group and was it Tom? Yes, Tom in the background, smiling.

'Good times…Guv' and the formality sounded significant; almost a farewell.

'Yeah.'

'That was the last time we all got together, wasn't it? Didn't think anything of it…' Mickey put the picture aside and started sorting again.

'This isn't mine, Jack.' It was a man's silver Celtic ring, all carved and 'Be lucky' etched on the inside, nothing that Mickey could have afforded.

'It is. I brought it for you, this morning.'

Mickey looked up and caught his eye. _Why? How much did it cost him to get that? _'Jack…' The other gift that Meadows had brought him had been the signed West Ham programme, on his birthday, that never to be forgotten night; this meant even more because Mickey knew it was a farewell gift, however he'd meant it.

'Does it fit?'

'Guess so.' He slipped it on, staring at his hand to see what it looked like - he'd never worn a ring before. 'Yeah. Why 'Be lucky?'

'Because - because that's what I want for you.'

Mickey rubbed the engraving thoughtfully, aware that this was the most expensive, most significant gift he'd ever received, and his sad smile was enough of a thank you to the DCI. 'You didn't have to get me anything, Jack.'

'I know I didn't.'

'I can't afford…I mean, I've never got you -'

'It's yours, Mick, okay?' _Like my heart and everything else. And I wanted your name on it, but then they would have asked you about it, so we'll just keep pretending that I'm not in love with you._

'I'll miss you, Jack.'

'What, at work? Even with a rocket up your arse' - sickened, he winced at what he'd said but Mickey didn't appear to have noticed - 'they wouldn't get you doing over about ten hours, even with all the travelling. And it isn't like I'm always there in work with you, anyway.'

'No. Travelling - it's going to be best if I rent somewhere over there. You can take over the let here if you want. I mean, you could come with but it'd be bloody awkward for Sun Hill.' _You understand me? You remind me all the time; I couldn't cope with having you there…_

'You'd be alright on your own?'

'Years ago, with Ray - you learn if something like this happens to you, you're always alone in a way. This - it just means I'm more alone…It don't matter, does it? I'll get used to it.'

_It matters. Matters so much, I couldn't make you understand how much. _'Mickey… I'd come with you, you know. Even if MIT doesn't work out and you want to move upcountry or something - I'd go with you.'

'I know. I know you would, Jack.' He played with the ring again, trying hard not to look at Meadows. _I think you'd die if I needed you to, wouldn't you?_

'You don't me to, though, do you? You want to be alone, don't you?' Meadows couldn't help the waver in his voice as he realised what this was.

'Jack…' The name he'd spoken in friendship, called aloud in ecstasy fell from his lips like lead; said a farewell that he couldn't explain. 'If I stayed with you, I'd, I'd just end up…coming back to Sun Hill…because I'm safe there but he'll get out or…he's got friends, hasn't he? I need - I need to get out.

'Need to leave everything, like…best like that.' He pulled the ring off and laid it on his palm to return to Meadows. 'Take it back. You keep it, Jack.'

'No. It's yours.' Gently, he closed Mickey's hand around it, trying not to think that this was the last time he'd ever be able to touch Mickey as a lover. 'Wear it at MIT. Be lucky.' He met Mickey's eyes again, expecting to want to kiss him but it was so evident that Mickey didn't want him to that Meadows felt revolted by the physical proximity. Felt like Delaney, trying to force Mickey.

'Jack - I do love you. I just - need a fresh start.'

'You'll do alright; you'll be fine.' _I won't; I'll miss you so much but if it's what you want, I'll not come looking for you or anything. Just keep in touch with Duncan. The nearest I'll get to you, that is…_

_No, I won't. _He turned away, poured himself a drink. Another drink. More, so it was anaesthetic; _fuck the staying fit to play, I'm too old, too weak…anyway, they might know…Never play again, that's best. Never see Jack again, that's best. No-one to hurt you if you're always alone…Much safer if you're alone…_

_Be lucky, Mick. Be luckier than I've been in looking after you._


	33. Mister MIT

Meadows was making love to him again, with all his heart and soul and skill. His arms were braced either side of Mickey's head, fingers twined through his blonde hair, tugging with each thrust. Despite the passion shining in his blue eyes, his movements were peaceful, languid, loving.

And then it was over, Jack laying next to him closely, safely. Mickey couldn't help smiling as they held each other, as he breathed in the scent of sweat and aftershave and the sheer masculinity of his lover.

'Hey, Jack?'

'Umm?'

'You could give lessons to people, you could. You're the best lover I've ever had.'

'I'm still trying to make up my mind about you; wanna give me another demonstration?'

'Certainly.'

'I love you, Blue Eyes. I love you.'

Mickey got up reluctantly and opened the door. It was Martin Delaney there; he went instinctively to slam the door shut, but Meadows, in the front room, called out 'let him come in.'

'You heard Jack; let me in, Blue Eyes. Suits you, that name.'

Shivering, Mickey stepped over and let him into the house, careful to stand far enough back that Delaney wouldn't have an excuse to brush against him. He went into the front room, in time to see Meadows shaking hands with Delaney.

'You alright, Mickey?' Jack's voice was genuinely concerned. 'You know Martin, don't you?'

Mickey nodded, not trusting himself to speak. They sat down; Mickey had to sit opposite him and talk until Delaney excused himself and Meadows whispered to him.

'Don't worry, Mick. He's not moving in until you've left. He said that he knew you.'

'I know him.'

Mickey got to his feet and walked out of the flat, leaving Jack talking to Delaney, and the DCI didn't try to stop him or even call out to him. He did slam the door shut behind Mickey, and it was that noise that woke Mickey.

He'd overslept. He was late for his first day at MIT. How ironic, how not funny that the first true sleep he'd had since the rape had caused him trouble. Last night had been alright because he'd been in his new flat, alone, without memories or invisible presences. And the flat wasn't home either, merely a room to sleep and eat in, just like his new suit hadn't been chosen for comfort or to match his eyes but to make him unattractive and cover his scars. None of it actually mattered to him. All that mattered was that Jack wasn't there and never would be again.

Mickey drove as fast as he dared, hoping that he remembered the way and aware of the silver ring catching against the steering wheel. He was alone, so alone, and now he had a future without Jack, in a strange place, and it had to be for the best but he was afraid.

Duncan Lennox was waiting on the car park steps, as good natured and as large framed as Mickey remembered him. He tried not to wonder what Duncan saw when he looked at him. _Be lucky…_he thought briefly of Sun Hill, the good times, Kerry laughing at him, Phil annoying Sam Nixon, Smithy…Jack and the memories gave him the confidence to jump out the car and jog over to Duncan, grinning to hide the pain.

'Hello, Sarge.'

'Mickey Webb, Mister MIT!' The broad Scots accent was humorous but kind, so kind that Mickey wondered if he knew. Duncan tried to pull him into a rough bear hug, but he pulled away, trying not shake or go pale. _It's not Delaney…he can't get to you now, remember?_

'Get here okay, did you, Mickey? Don't think this is your usual neck of the woods, is it?'

'No; bit upmarket for my taste. Found it alright though. J - Someone gave me some very precise directions.' _Someone who would have driven me over here this morning if I'd let him. Hell, he would have stayed over and made sure I didn't oversleep this morning, wouldn't he? Even now…_

'Do you want me to show you around then?'

'Yeah.'_ I want to go back to Sun Hill. Jack, and the office, where Rod and John Boulton and all that lot were. I want to go home…_

MIT's offices were alright. Nothing more. A desk of his own that he got moved into a corner with his back to the walls, a DCI who wasn't Jack, and new people. Some of the women eyed him assessingly, a few of the men looked challengingly or defiantly at him, as if they resented him, and the others gave him what seemed like genuine greetings. Duncan stayed by his side, calm and steadfast as they walked around the building, so like Jack…_so like him._

'Are you alright, Mickey? You don't look well.'

'Yeah, I'm fine. Just…must have drunk too much last night or something, that's all. Didn't sleep too well after that.' Duncan looked shrewdly at him; an expression that bothered Mickey because of how knowing the DS seemed. _They wouldn't have told him. No way. Just being paranoid. _

'One day, you'll grow up.'

'One day…' _One day, I thought I was going to live forever, get rich and be loved, be everything…then Kate died and I'm hurt and alone. It wasn't meant to be like this, was it? All went wrong somewhere…when I was born, I guess. _'Yeah, I will.' _Smile, keep smiling, never let him see. Don't let any of them see._

'I think that's all of it now, Mickey. You want to come and see some real police work, play with the big boys?'

'Guess so.' Looking eager, he started to listen to the details of the case that Duncan and another DC, Robby Patterson, were working on. Patterson asked his name; he replied 'Michael' and realised that he'd taken a step away from being the man that Jack had loved as he repeated the details back. No real interest, no engagement in the case. Just act and keep acting, because this was life from now on and all he had left

was here.

A/N – Please check out my companion drabble, 'The Relativity of Crime,' a tie in piece with this fic. Reviewers get cookies!


	34. He'll look after himself

Meadows paced in his office, remembering Mickey stammering out, between laughter 'I wish you'd not do that while I'm 'ere, 'cos I can never think while you're pacing up and down like that,' and trying to forget it. He drew the blinds down between his office and the general one, blocking the sight of the desk that wasn't Mickey's any more.

He'd dealt with so many ghosts of the past here; got used to expecting dead men to walk in or speak up in the briefings: he'd never expected to be haunted by a living man. Mickey wasn't going to walk in, ruffling his hair up with one hand and joking; wasn't going to stride in with a suspect in tow or inflict his music on him, hold him as they watched films at home, ever again. _But if I hurt him, even a little, if I put him in danger, even in his mind, then I've got no right to see him. It has to be for the best not to see him. Don't think of being alone here tonight, without him; don't think of him sitting there alone, so far away…Forget him. Let him go, if that's what he wants…Let him go, if that's what he wants._

The phone rung, abruptly stopping his pacing. 'DCI Meadows.'

'Duncan, guv. You wanted me to tell you how Mickey was?'

_With that accent, why do you think that you have to identify yourself all the time? _'He's only just go there, hasn't he?'

'Guv - his shift finished two hours back. I was waiting to get home to call you.'

'Did it?' He glanced at the clock, saw it was past nine. 'Well?' _Tell me he's fine and I don't have to worry about him. Tell me that he couldn't hack it, and he wants to come back to Sun Hill tomorrow and never leave again, because I'm missing him so much, so bloody much…_

'He's okay.' Duncan hurried the words out, trying to reassure his former boss. 'He looks ill though, don't he? All that, and those marks on his arms - I wouldn't have guessed what happened to him if you hadn't said but it's sort of obvious that something's wrong…He's a good actor; acting like he's alright but he's not that good.'

'I know he is. He's been acting ever since.'

There was a long silence; Meadows aware that he was revealing too much to Duncan and that the DS would be too polite to mention it, but that he would wonder.

'That ring of his, who gave it to him?'

'Why?'

'Because he never stopped fiddling with it, all day. I didn't want to ask, case it was from a girlfriend or something.'

_Or something. _'He's on his own, Duncan. That was a present from the last person he was with - he showed it to me once.'

Again, Duncan was aware of something painful that remained unspoken and tried to edge the conversation away from it. 'He'll do well here, guv, even if he struggles a bit until he's coping better. He'll be fine.'

'Does he like it there?' _Because really, that's all that matters. For him, it is, and that's all that should matter to me as well; not like I've got anything left without him. I should want him to be happy there, nothing more._

'Yes, I think so. He seemed interested in the work and everything I showed him.'

'What's he working - no. Sorry, Dunc, forget I asked. He can tell me if he wants.' The words were leaden, painful. _He doesn't want me to know what he's doing, so…no right to spy on him…not try to keep running his life for him._

'You still want me to phone you about how he's doing?'

'No - no, I made a mistake. If he wants to leave Sun Hill behind then…I didn't think. It's not fair to treat him like that, like I can't trust him. Duncan, don't tell him that I was checking up on him like this.'

'I won't, guv. I'll look after him, though. Promise.'

'He'll look after himself, Mick will.' _Because he's not going to trust anyone else in a situation like this, not even me, and I love him._

He realised the truth of that last sentence as he put the phone down, and it was like a farewell that actually sunk in. _I tried to make it better for him and it didn't work, so I should let him go. You can't keep anything that you've not defended…_He wondered how much of a temptation it would be in the months and years ahead, to sit there with Duncan's number and Mickey's mobile that he knew by heart, and not to call either of them.

'Sir? Everything alright?' Smithy called to him as he walked down to the car park a few minutes later.

He swung round to look at the sergeant; Smithy hadn't been around for the past week and therefore he hadn't heard about Mickey. Meadows shook his head as Smithy caught his eye, and the younger man again belied his age with his actions. He barked at the nearest constable to take over manning the custody desk, then walked over to Meadows and dropped his voice to a whisper.

'Come on, guv. Car park?'

He nodded, let Smithy follow him down to his car and get in the passenger seat. Smithy didn't speak; he sat there tentatively, keeping a wary eye on Meadows and not relaxing but somehow reassuring the DCI by his presence. _I suppose this is what Mickey used to see in him; that you can trust him and he isn't going to be shocked by whatever we tell him, because he knows it all anyway. I suppose that does make him a friend._

'Where've you been, Smithy? For the past week?'

'Leave.' He stared at Meadows. 'What's wrong with Mickey, then?'

'Nothing. He's gone to MIT. First day was today.'

'And you two?' Smithy asked it blandly, trying to make it clear to Meadows that he didn't mind their relationship.

'He - left. Moved out yesterday morning. He wanted to make a clean break of it all; not like he had much to leave behind, is it?'

'Oh. You didn't ask him to leave, then?'

'No. He thought, at first, that I wanted him to leave but he was in shock, so when he calmed down, it was okay. He doesn't feel safe here anymore, that was all, and he wanted to get away. He told me a few days ago.'

'Sorry.' Smithy touched one hand lightly to his wrist, then pulled back from the physical contact - Meadows could understand how much it cost the undemonstrative sergeant to offer that much. 'Sorry for you both.'

'Thanks.' _I guess._

'Is he pressing charges against Delaney?'

'He wrote me a statement; everything I've been through with him, and he couldn't tell me about what that bastard did to him, but he sat in here and wrote it all down.'

'I know,' Smithy reminded him gently. 'I read it, remember?'

'He got a proper examination the other day. I had to go and pick his notes up; he couldn't do that. They said he was okay, sort of, but…they backed up everything that he said about it…they said they've got enough proof to show that he had intercourse and it was brutal, and because of me it wasn't enough that he'd just been with a man, but…Smithy, you know they don't take that as proof of rape.'

'Any DNA?'

'No. He - he showered straight after; couldn't help him himself. But Delaney - we've got proof that the other two were raped; they all ID'd him and he confessed…We asked him about Mickey - got Sam in there to take his confession, because she knew and I couldn't do it.

'Mickey said - he said …' - and this was painful because it had been the subject of their last talk together - 'that he'll press charges as long as he doesn't have to get up in court. I promised that I'd sort a video link out for him.'

'You lied to him, guv. You can't promise that.'

'We knew…What could I have said to him?'

Smithy shrugged. 'I'll have to get up at the trial, won't I? And you.'

'For Mickey.' _Not much to ask, is it? He probably won't even know we're there, if he gets that linkup; he won't see us._

'I don't mind…Jack. He's my friend as well.'

'I know.'

'If you ever want me…I'm only down in uniform, you know. If you want to talk about him or anything, 'cos I'm gonna miss him as well as you. Or if you want to come out for a drink, sometime, that'll be fine…Anything.'

'Cheers.' Meadows forced a smile; Smithy reached across and shook his hand briefly, clasping it, before scrambling out of the car and saying loudly 'I'll bear that in mind, Sir,' for the benefit of a passing group of officers.

_Cheers…I don't want to talk about him; I want to talk to him. Just once more…_Meadows started the car up and drove towards the flat that wasn't home anymore.


	35. Tear Us Further Apart

'Every beat of my heart tears us further apart. I'm lost an' alone…in the dark…' Mickey sung the refrain with the CD player, grieving aloud and openly; Eva thinking that he was showing off and ignoring him. 'To my own folk, that's where I wanna be. I'm going home…I'm going h-ome…' _Home or wherever you are now, Jack. _Four months on and the loneliness was still raw.

'Don't give up the day job, Mickey.'

'I won't.' He sighed and stopped the tape, glancing across at Eva as he drove. 'What's been happening at Sun Hill, then?'

'Not much. Nixon got busted back down to DS from acting inspector - guess how much she liked that. We got - they've got - a DI Manson now. He's alright; Meadows isn't too keen on him, mind. Ken's still raiding the dressing-up box for his shirts, Phil Hunter got hisself another girl…massive drugs raid out on Coal Lane a couple of days before I left…'

_I don't want to know that. I wanted to know Jack's okay because I miss him so, so much…_It hurt to hear the news of the place he'd left behind, and he knew he shouldn't have asked.

'Surprised it took you so long to get round to asking, Mickey.'

'Yeah, well, it doesn't really matter to me, now. I don't really care. And Ev, it's Michael now.' That was the first time he'd ever said that out loud, realised it was a decision made forever.

She looked at him, curious, reminding Mickey that she'd never known what had happened to him but surely…the trial last month, when he'd gone ill for a fortnight and simply driven, kept driving until he'd found himself in the New Forest and booked into a hotel and hid until it was over; it must have made people think. _Does she know? Does she?_

'Why?'

'I left Mickey behind. I'm Michael, now.' _Mickey was the man Jack loved, and he can't love me after going to that trial and hearing what happened…Did he go? Did it matter?_ He'd read the result of the trial; Delaney being given seventeen years, but it hadn't mentioned Jack. It hadn't mentioned him by name, either.

'Michael? Look, I don't know why you left Sun Hill, but…I'm not going to ask you about it.'

'Thanks.'

She looked at him, thinking that he seemed older and sadder than he should be; realising that in the week they'd been paired together, he hadn't laughed once. He'd hardly smiled; even his greeting had been a simple 'Oh, hi, Eva,' that sounded false. He seemed different in work as well, reserved and edgy with all his colleagues, with a meticulously tidy desk in the far corner of the office and all his efforts being directed at solving cases, although he never seemed to take any enjoyment from it. He was almost emotionless now.

'Do you actually like MIT, then, Michael?' The name sounded odd to both of them.

'It's a job. I do what I'm told to, as well as I can. It's alright.' He shrugged, unable to say that he hated working here because every day reminded him that he'd run away. Surrendered. Let Delaney win.

'Oh, lighten up.'

Mickey - Michael - turned back to the road, trying not to think how much that comment hurt. He'd found that words hurt much more now, that he was more sensitive to what others said or did, and it was a change in himself that he didn't like. He drove in aggrieved silence for twenty minutes or so.

'Tell you something that might cheer you up.'

'What?' He snapped the reply at her, hating the memories the gossip was bound to stir up and unable to think of a way to avoid hearing it.

'You remember DS McAllister, don't you?'

'Yeah.' _I remember that me and Jack killed her lover, even though he was a rapist like Delaney._ He'd not made that connection between the two men before.

'Want to guess who she's sleeping with?'

_Lucky her if she's got some-one. _'Couldn't tell you.'

'The DCI. Really.'

'Jack Meadows?' The sounds were meaningless, the sudden pain too intense to think through. _There must be a new DCI or it must be Barton Street's boss…he must have left and I don't know where he's gone, then…but he can't be with her._

'Course. What other DCI we talking about? You've never seen CID so peaceful; he should have got together with someone in work a long time back - he's much better tempered for it.

_Was that all I meant to him? Just someone to have a fling with and then move on, like it didn't matter. I mean, I did that a few times but not like that…I thought me and him…_Then realisation hit that he'd been the one to leave and that it would have been idealistic to expect Meadows to give up on seeing other people, on being loved.

'Don't you think that's great though? The grumpy old DCI - never shown any interest in anyone there - and the original Ice Maiden. Although you'd have thought her taste in men would have improved since Chandler; she could have had anyone, not some old bloke just seeing out his time to retirement and making everyone else's lives miserable while he does it.'

The rejection, the pain, turned into cold fury. 'Don't say that. Jack isn't like that.' He growled the words, barely opening his mouth: clenched his hands around the steering wheel until they hurt and the ring cut into his flesh. _Whatever he's doing, he isn't like that. Not Jack._

'What, Meadows?' She glanced at him, seeing the agonised expression on his face, the hurt in his eyes. 'You okay? Oh, don't tell me you had a thing for Debbie McAllister. All the same if you did, really; she'll soon get bored with him, be back on the market.'

'No.' He couldn't believe that she'd got it so wrong, that anyone could think that he fancied McAllister who was young and pretty but not the person who haunted his dreams. _At least, if she still thinks I'm into women, she hasn't heard about Delaney and let that change her mind. _

'What, then?' Eva was genuinely concerned.

'Something else. It's okay.' _Oh God, Jack…Jack, I miss you so much, so bad, I wish you were here just to tell me it wasn't true._ The loneliness was worse than the old darkness now; a realisation that his dream of Meadows coming to look for him wasn't ever going to come true, and that he was no longer important to the Dalesman. He'd been left, forgotten, like he'd asked to be - and now he knew that he hadn't wanted that at all.

Squinting through the tears that scaled his eyes and threatened to blind him completely, Michael drove as fast as he dared, aware that he was trying to run away again, and knowing that it wouldn't work, because he loved Jack too much to want to think that they'd never meet again. _And he doesn't even believe in Heaven, so we haven't even got that._


	36. I love you I think Jack

The cheap wine was ice cold in his mouth, reminding Meadows vaguely of something he'd once tasted. It reminded him of Mickey, who hated the stuff and refused to kiss him when he'd been drinking it. The only time Mickey had ever refused to kiss him before Delaney had ruined everything they had ever had between them. Reminded him of a lot, all hazy memories that were dimmed further by the pain that had built over the past few days.

His chest hurt, or rather something deep inside his chest did, and his breathing was harsh although still regular; he remembered that feeling as something precious from after playing rugby or cricket in his younger days, but today, he hadn't done anything. Angry at that, at the fact he was getting old, Meadows shook his head and tried to concentrate on what Debbie was saying to him. Her voice, shrill though it was, was nearly lost in the noise of the bar.

'You're a really lovely, special person, Jack.'

_Yeah right. So lovely and special that the only woman I can get is you. Either you've struck gold or I'm doing something really fucking stupidly wrong. _He felt uncomfortable hearing that; Mickey and him had never really needed to say what they felt for each other. They'd just known it, on some level that went far beyond instinct; vocalising it had just been something extra and he knew that he still loved Mickey more than Debbie. _Let's be honest, I don't love her. She's a friend, nothing more. Guess I do fancy her - wasn't too bothered about that when I was shagging her, was I? - but I don't love her. Not like I'd like to spend the rest of my life with her or anything. _

More meaningless words from her. He felt really ill now, nearly too much to bear so that he thought he'd pass out where he was, like a drunk after a hard night's drinking. Then the sensation eased and he gulped a deep breath, trying not to think of the day he'd come back to Sun Hill after taking sick leave and Mickey had run up to touch him, check he wasn't a mirage. That had been the instant when he'd realised that Mickey cared for him in a way that went far beyond gratitude for the way he'd looked after him when Kate had died; their true relationship had started from that second.

'I love you, I think, Jack.' He heard Mickey saying 'love you' after their first night together, knew that Mickey had meant it, and remembered Debbie saying the same thing to Chandler. He'd walked in on them once, mostly unintentionally, and he'd heard that..._Me and Mickey had hysterics over it when I told him._ _Do I end up with everyone else's cast-offs? And did she mean that?_

'Oh.' He muttered the reply, wondering if he would have managed anything much better even if he hadn't been feeling ill. Probably not - there wasn't anything else he could say about it.

Their evening, a meal and then on for a few drinks, degenerated into bickering after that; Debbie angry because of his reaction and Meadows because the chest pains were scaring him, although he couldn't say it. He'd accused Mickey of it sometimes, but in fact it was normally him who got defensive when he was worried. _I don't want to die; not with Debbie thinking she owns me like that. I want Mickey back here…It's not that the pain's so bad, but I'm scared; is this it? This what everyone feels before they die, __this fear, sort of like everything's fading or rushing away, and you can't keep up with it anymore? Wish he was here. God, when was the last time I saw him? I don't want to die, not remembering that..._

He suspected that the DC was unaware of it, hoped he was, in fact, but his complete and utter belief that Meadows could look after him had often helped the older man. Knowing that someone believed in him, he ended up believing in himself. And now, when he was facing the sudden idea of his own mortality, he desperately needed the courage that Mickey gave him.

It was the next morning that he got news of Ted Roach's death, and two days after that that he went down to the funeral. Forty-eight hours in which he came as near to calling a doctor as to phoning Mickey. Twice, he started to dial the so-familiar number before reminding himself that Mickey wanted to be alone and that he had to respect that, put Mickey above his own feelings.

Grief, fear, pain - Meadows found that he couldn't cope with it on his own anymore. Alec Peters he got on with okay, but no more than that, while even in retirement, Bob Cryer was a uniform man at heart and kept his distance. He couldn't tell either of them about the chest pains; nor had they ever known Mickey, and on a personal level, he had nothing in common with the pair. Of them all, Ted Roach was the man he'd been closest to, and the fact that his funeral got Meadows away from Debbie for a few days wasn't enough to justify the pain that it caused.

Meadows went back to his hotel room rather than down to dinner with the other men, mainly so that they wouldn't see him grieving. His chest hurt, like something was clawing at his heart, but the pain was down his left arm, then everywhere. His whole body, the whole of his useless, aging body, was pain. Suddenly, he couldn't think beyond it, even to remember his own name or where he was, but he could remember Mickey. Nothing else, just the pain and the blue eyes of his lover. 'Mickey' he called out, because as far as he was aware, he was at home, the flat that would always be home to him now, with Mickey playing rock music with a loud drumbeat in the next room. 'Mickey!' but the blonde haired man he'd loved so much didn't come before Meadows had fallen into unconsciousness.

A /N – Yes, Becca, I reckon Mickey would let you hold him. Yes, Megan, being in the car with him would be an excellent idea. Sadly, I think Meadows would be first in line for both. Other than that, please form an orderly queue… And lots of love to all my reviewers. I'm sure Mickey would agree that you're wonderful.


	37. I'll forgive Delaney

Smithy heard the news later that evening, when Meadows had been taken to hospital and was still critical. Cursing, he realised that he only had Mickey's old home number - Meadows' home number now - and it took endless minutes to get through to Eva and get Mickey's new mobile. More endless minutes for Mickey to answer; minutes that Smithy spent remembering the hopeless love and concern that had flooded over the DCI's face as they had sat side by side at Delaney's trial.

'Mickey?'

'Michael.' His voice was resigned; Smithy thought he sounded a lot older and tired than he had done five months ago. 'Is that you, Smithy?'

'Yes.'

'What'd ya want?' Hostile, full of distrust. 'Who gave yer my number?'

'Phoned Eva for it. I don't think she was aware that you don't want to talk to anyone. Look, Mickey, you know I wouldn't have done this to you if it wasn't an emergency. I know what you're trying to do, hiding like this.'

Hearing Smithy, not seeing him but hearing him, was bringing back the memories of laying bleeding and crying on the concrete, with Smithy running and shouting, shouting again. Shouting so loud that Mickey hadn't been able to hear whether or not Delaney had still been nearby. Even through the memories though, Michael could still hear the alarm that Smithy was trying to deny. 'What's wrong?'

'Look, I know you an' the DCI were together, before Delaney attacked you. I guess you're not with Meadows anymore , but I thought you ought to know what's happening.'

_He's not dead, not dead. I'd know if he was. Oh, God, no…_and although he'd denied his religion as something that Mickey had clung to in childlike faith, Michael remembered it now and prayed. _Let Delaney out, I'll forgive Delaney…let Delaney rape me again, just let Jack be okay, God. Let him be alive. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, look after him…_

'Mickey…' Smithy's voice faltered as he realised how distressed Mickey would be, 'he had a heart attack. Early today.'

'Is..he - is he…' He couldn't force himself to say 'dead.'

'He's alive.' Smithy hurried those two words out, offering what comfort he could. 'They said he was critical, very bad. I had - I had to tell you, Mickey. Couldn't not let you know. So sorry.'

Michael hadn't heard anything past 'critical'. 'Jack…where is he?'

'He was off somewhere for a funeral - he's in the local hospital. Got him straight there.'

Suddenly, tears were streaking down Michael's face, for the first time since he'd left Sun Hill. He let them fall unchecked, aware only that Jack, the strong, brave man who had always looked out for him, was dying. _Because everyone I love dies._

'You okay, Mickey?' Smithy's voice was soft, kind, almost affectionate. 'I can - come give you a lift down there, if you want.'

'Jack.' He whispered the name like a talisman.

Smithy pictured Mickey sitting alone in the empty flat, crying in fear and he knew it was fear because he knew Mickey's past, and the image hurt. 'Is that okay, me giving you a lift? Where are you? I don't know where your flat is. You mind?'

Michael managed to get enough breath to answer, dashing his hand across his face so hard that it hurt. 'Please. On your own.' _I want to see him. Just let him be alright…_

'I'm on my way, Mickey.' Hating the necessity of it, he laid the phone down; left Mickey alone.

The DC was unsure of how long it took Smithy to arrive; he'd noticed lately that his sense of time was normally hazed by fatigue or fear. Long enough that he remembered being Jack's lover, laying next to him and laughing, safe in the Dalesman's arms, and heard again every soft word he'd whispered. Short enough that he didn't have time to wash or change; just sat on the unmade bed , hearing without hearing the radio that he'd deliberately tuned between stations and left on so the flat was never silent.

Smithy knocked and waited outside; even though the flat door was unlocked, he knew any trespass would be a threat. He didn't recognise the heavily stubbled man whose lank blonde hair fell nearly to his shoulders until Michael spoke to him.

'Didn' think I'd see you 'gain.'

'Mickey?' The younger man was skinnier than Smithy remembered; wearing a dirty denim jacket over a faded t-shirt and black jeans that were too large being held up by a worn belt. His face had changed as well; thin and pinched, giving him a cruel look belied by the deep shadows around his eyes that told of total exhaustion.

'Michael.' _What the fuck does that matter, when Jack's dying? I guess it's all I've got now, isn't it? _'I'm Michael, now.'

'C'mon, I got the car outside.' Smithy stepped back to allow him out without crowding him; was surprised when Mickey - Michael - stopped close by him, almost met his eyes.

'You remembered me.'

'Yeah.'

'You remembered 'bout me and Jack, an' you cared enough to come an' find me. Why? Why should you…'_after I hit you?_

'You're a friend. C'mon.' He laid one hand on Michael's shoulder for a brief second, then walked over to the car with the DC following.

There were no words to bridge the gap between them as they drove; Michael too afraid and Smithy too worried about saying the wrong thing to initiate a conversation. Remotely, he was aware that Michael pulled his hair over his face whenever he sensed Smithy looking at him; of how he unconsciously kept his body angled away, and was swallowing convulsively. At first he thought it was all fear for Meadows; it took Smithy a while to realise that Michael was terrified of him, of the fact that he was alone with another man.

They looked at each other in the carpark, tired blue and worried brown eyes nearly meeting. 'D'you want me to come in?' Smithy offered.

'Do you want to see J - him?' Somehow, he couldn't say the name of the man he still loved. _I want you there to look after me, and I don't want you anywhere near me, because you scare me so much and I don't think you even know that you're doing it._

'I'll go with you, wait outside while you see him. You don't want to be alone at the moment.'

Smithy led Michael in, careful never to walk faster than the DC could, so that he was never alone. He knew, from Meadows, about the last time when Michael had been to a hospital. Thinking of that and how he looked now, frightened Smithy, made him wonder if Delaney had had AIDS or something…Michael and how hard it was to remember that name, looked ill.


	38. I'm fine, Mickey

'Here to see Jack Meadows.'

The receptionist looked at them for a minute, as if she was wondering whether Michael was there as a patient or visitor. 'He's on Ward 10, up there on the left.'

''Kay.' He led Michael off again, into the ward and up to a curtained-off bed. 'I'll wait out here.' Smithy touched him gently on the shoulder; it was all Michael could do not to turn and cling to the sergeant, break down in his arms. The DC stepped through the curtains, tossing his head so that his hair fell back and didn't obscure his sight.

'Jack?' He saw that the Dalesman was asleep or unconscious; not dead, because he could see in green lines on a machine, the steady heartbeat he had so often lain his head against. Then he saw that Debbie McAllister was there as well, sitting by the bed, her fingers laced with Jack's.

'Mickey? What are you doing here?'

'I came, came to see Jack, that's all.' _Go away. I wanna be here alone with you, Jack. _'I'm sorry.'

'It's okay. Do you want to speak to him?'

_I want to stay here and hold him, make sure he's alright. I love him so much, so much. It was me I wanted to leave behind, Jack, not you. I never, ever, wanted to leave you. _'How is he? Please?' He wasn't sure why he added that, except that her presence was making him feel that he had no right to claim Jack's love.

'They said that he should be alright. He's just old and stressed, been doing too much.'

He was shocked; somehow, he'd never thought of Jack as old once they'd become lovers. He'd seemed forever young. 'They said 'e was critical. How's he now?'

'Stable. They've got him asleep now, anyway. He didn't know I was here.' Her voice was thick with worry. 'Who told you 'bout it?'

'Smithy. He knew me and Jack -'

'DCI Meadows.'

'Jack, were friends. He thought I should be here.' Hesitatingly, he walked over to Jack, held his other hand. Debbie stared at him, challenging his right to touch Meadows like that and under the pain on his face, she could see something of the love he felt for her partner.

'Jack, it's me, Mickey.' The name he'd denied for so long came awkwardly from his lips. 'You okay? It's just me here. It's okay. I guess you can hear me, an' you're just pretending to be asleep. Like normal. You shouldn't do this to me, Jack. Not good for me.' As far as he was aware, it was Jack and him there, at home, and Debbie wasn't important; Jack was _his._

'I don't like getting phone calls like that and having to come flying down here. Gonna have t' get someone to cover for me tomorrow, anyhow, 'cos I ain't leaving you.' He clasped the DCI's hand between both of his, looking at the ring that was bright against his pale skin. It had meant something once, that ring. _Be lucky - I want you to be lucky now, Jack. _If he'd been alone, he would have taken it off and given it to Meadows.

'Mickey?'

He ignored McAllister, ignored Smithy when the sergeant come in and ushered her away, sensing that Michael needed to be alone. It was enough that he was able to cling to Jack and sit with him, talking, as it got dark.

'Guess I shoulda kept in touch, but I just couldn't. God, I've missed you. Miss being able to make you blush by saying what I wanted to do with you, stuff like that. Even miss having someone to argue with, 'bout music and stuff and who's turn it is to do the cooking.' He swallowed hard. 'I knew, I knew I'd miss it but I didn't know it'd be like this. Every day, all the time, I miss Sun Hill. Hate the idea that I run away.'

He'd thought all this to himself so many times over the past few months but saying it aloud to Jack was like a confession, even if the other man was too far gone to hear. 'Missed you so much. Even though you're with her or something; I been so scared… but I did it on my own. I'm so sorry I never got in touch…oh, Jack, oh God, I thought you'd died or something…Jack…'

The sleeping man stirred and opened his eyes. Michael saw the momentary confusion that must be the result of drugs, and then the incredulous smile as he focused on the DC.

'Mickey?' His voice was slurred from sleep and drugs, from the pain that marked his face. 'Wha' you doin'?'

'Sssh. Be quiet.' Instinctively, he touched the DCI's face, running one hand over the cropped hair and stubbled cheeks, giving more comfort with touch than he'd ever be able to do with words.

Meadows managed a smile as Mickey leant over him. 'You alright?' It was barely a whisper.

_Still worried about me, even when he's like this. Shouldn't be, I'm not worth it, Jack. _'Now that you are. Don't talk, just be quiet.'

'Yes, Blue Eyes.'

Michael tightened his hold on Meadows' hand as though the strength of his love could keep him alive and conscious. _Blue Eyes - when was the last time I heard that? Must have been when Mum died. _The last time they'd made love, when Jack had comforted him in the dark until he'd fallen asleep in his lover's arms and the pain had been blocked out. 'Do as you're told.' His voice was mock-rough, belied as he bent down and brushed his lips against Meadows'.

It wasn't a true kiss; the Dalesman was too tired to do anything more than passively accept the contact and Michael remembered, so clearly that it hurt, Delaney crushing his lips and tongue, biting more than kissing. But it felt right to both of them, precious and safe and loving.

Then they looked silently at each other, because the gesture said everything they needed to say.

_You came back. You got in a car with someone you've been trying to avoid, and you came here, in a hospital, to see me. Don't think I don't know how much that's cost you…And I never really thought I'd see you again, so maybe it's a good thing it all happened, because you're here…_

'Jack, you should sleep. Get some rest.'

'I'm alright. Don't worry 'bout me.'

'I'm not, don't flatter yourself. I'll stay here for now, that's all. Just staying here with you.' He took Meadows' hand again, sat there until the older man was asleep. It wasn't something that he'd seen often - Meadows was normally the one who was awake and busy long after Mickey was asleep - but it struck a chord with Michael, reminded him of something he'd almost forgotten.

_He's like me; he gets hurt and afraid and tired. He needs me like I need him. _Sighing, he bent down and touched his lips to Jack's as he slept. _Missed you. Missed you, lover._

A/N – Yes, I agree Mickey should have been with Jack after the heart attacks. I apologise for any medical inaccuracies, but my information comes from House and therefore is filtered through the distraction of House's eyes. Obscenely pretty.

I hope I've made the name change clear – he's Michael when thinking of himself in the present. Mickey is from other people or Michael looking back. I prefer Mickey, though. Such a lot in a name…


	39. Don't worry about Mickey

Smithy wished, in a way, that he hadn't opened the curtains and stood there watching that last exchange between Mickey and Meadows; seen for himself the depth of what they felt for each other. The smile on Mickey's face made him smile as well, but seeing Mickey kiss his partner made him feel like a voyeur; yet he'd found it impossible to turn away. It seemed like an affirmation of life and youth, a denial that anything could happen to the DCI, and it wasn't a gesture he'd have expected to see from Mickey.

Engrossed in watching the DC, he didn't notice Debbie standing by his shoulder, staring in at her partner. She whirled away and strode off, not quite loud enough to wake Meadows.

'What was that about, Smithy?' Her voice was flat with fury.

'Mickey's missed him. He was worried, so I left him in there, to see the DCI. Be with him, on their own.'

'No.' She caught Smithy's unsurprised, almost approving, expression. 'What aren't you telling me about this?'

He shut his eyes momentarily, walked away from anywhere where Mickey could possibly overhear. 'It's between those two. Ask Meadows when he's well.'

'You call him Meadows; Mickey called him Jack. If you hadn't noticed, he's my partner - I didn't expect to see Mickey kissing him. Is there something I should know?'

'Leave it, Debbie!' He shouted the words at her, angry and hurt, afraid for his friends. 'You don't know - you could never understand what Mickey's been through…he's been through hell and if the DCI pulled him through - that's up to them. Leave them alone.' He moved around suddenly, blocking Debbie from going back to the pair. He didn't catch the unconscious movement, a throwback to army days, but Debbie saw his fingers close around a gun stock that wasn't there.

'Leave Mickey alone, understand? Let them be for now. Just give them a bit of time.' He waited, on guard, until Debbie left to get a drink, then went back in to Michael. The DC was still holding Meadows' hand, his eyes half shut.

'You want a lift back?'

'Smithy, if I needed your help, I'd ask for it. Leave me 'lone.' He was tired, desperately so, but home was with the Dalesman for now, not some anonymous flat in central London.

'Just come and get some sleep, that's all. Even if you just doss in the car for a bit an' I sit with him.'

'No.' _I didn't get to be with Kate when she died. I don't want him to die on his own, like that, without anyone who cares. Not him. _'I won't leave him.'

Smithy's tone softened. 'He'll be okay. He's over the worst, they said.'

'I just- just want to be here, if - when - he wakes up. He was there when, after…Delaney.' _After everything I've screwed up, he's always been there so I can't leave him now. Got to be here._

Hesitating, Smithy glanced from Michael's face to Meadows', then at the ring that the DCI must have given him. Michael had raised the subject, mentioned the name first…

'Delaney…you heard his sentence?'

Staring at memories, he nodded. 'Not long, was it?'

'Did you seen any of the trial?' Smithy had been there, sitting through every day of the proceedings with Meadows; knew that he hadn't.

'I think it was Jack - fixed it - used a video link. Just for g-giving evidence.' The whisper of his voice barely registered above the ongoing noise of the hospital and the traffic outside that was increasing with daybreak. 'Never saw any of it. Dunno what happened.' _Did Jack go, beyond what he had to? Did he care? Must have, or maybe he hated me too much after he heard everything…_

'It was just a trial. Meadows, he attended the whole thing. Even after we'd done our evidence. Watched it all, he did. That last day - when they charged him - it took three ushers to keep him off Delaney. He was ready to kill him…I couldn't stop him.'

'Why?' Exhausted, so damaged by what Delaney had done to him, Michael couldn't comprehend anyone being willing to fight for him. Didn't really remember Meadows almost knocking Ray - his own father - to the ground in his defence.

'Because - 'cos of what he's done to you. Because you left. The trial - the whole thing - made him so angry. Having Delaney there, and he was carrying on, you remember…DCI lost it wiv him.'

_Trying to be brave, Mickey? Good name for you, little kid's name….'_Yeah, I 'member. He didn't confess, did he?' _I wish he had…wouldn't have had to do all that, then. Why didn't he?_

'Course not. Not that bastard - he wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction.'

'All the evidence, though…' He had a vivid glimpse of his clothing, caked in dirt and bundled into a plastic bag, then hidden so he wouldn't have to look at the reality of what had been done to him.

'The only thing he tried saying was that it was consensual. Didn't even bother contesting all the evidence…No jury on earth wasn't going to convict him, though.'

Michael tried to speak, swallowed hard, and tried again. 'I wouldn't have…I was with Jack - wouldn' do that to 'im. Ever.'

'I know.'

'The trial…' he managed, and then he couldn't vocalise the rest, just sat and looked at Meadows, blocking Smithy out of it. _I couldn't face it, thought I could. Thought Jack loved me and he does, but Debbie loves him and she stayed with him. I thought, I thought…_ 'The trial - was worse. Worse than when it 'appened, almost. I thought Jack'd phone or summat; he didn't.'

Smithy could see the betrayal in Michael's face, and the acceptance as well. He realised that the younger man hadn't really wanted to hear from Meadows; that the silence, painful as it had been, hadn't hurt as much as concern would have. 'I think he was right not to.'

'Yeah.' _Because Debbie would have wanted to know why he was talking to me, and he would have had to tell her about Delaney and everything…she would have known._

'You gonna come away now, get some sleep?' It was almost two; they'd only got away with staying because Smithy was in uniform.

Michael nodded and got unsteadily to his feet. 'I had to be with him, Smithy. For a while.'

'If that'd been Ker, I wouldn't have been able to leave her alone. No way.' He looked away from Michael, embarrassed. 'C'mon.'

Michael glanced at him, flicking his hair back from his face. 'You and Kerry?'

'Yeah. Pretty much so.'

Almost smiling, he followed Smithy out without noticing Debbie walk in and take his seat by Jack. They drove back to London in silence, but it was tiredness rather than fear that meant he couldn't speak. Smithy glanced over at his passenger as they went through Whitechapel; saw that Michael was asleep, offering his trust in a way that went beyond words.

Meadows woke again about an hour later, spoke Mickey's name without opening his eyes but it was only Debbie that answered him. 'He's not here.'

'Oh.' He shifted his weight carefully, hissing between his teeth as he did so. 'Is he - he okay? Coming here…'_I wish he hadn't. Didn't have to have done that, not just for this._

'Don't worry about Mickey, Jack. You're going to be alright.'

'He…needs me to worry about him. He hasn't got anyone else.' Meadows sighed, a long, painful sound as though he was just starting to feel his own illness. _He was here, wasn't he? I didn't imagine it; I did see him. Must have done._

Dimly, he was aware of a doctor coming and Debbie talking to someone, a lot of noise, whoever it was speaking to him and waving their arms around emphatically. It took him those few minutes to realise that they'd stitched a cut across his forehead, that his arm ached and stung from the injections; for him to start to understand how close he'd come to dying. He was so tired that he had to close his eyes, even though the darkness seemed too near. He wanted to think of Mickey, but at that moment, he could only remember the faces of his children. Mickey's name was there, though.


	40. You'd dream of me?

Michael paced round his flat, half conscious that his footsteps were echoing in the empty room. He'd been planning to decorate before unpacking; a way of deceiving himself that into thinking that this was his home - five months he'd been here and the boxes were still stacked in the corners of the room. Somehow, he'd fooled himself into thinking that Smithy would have stayed here for what was left of the night. For the first time since Delaney, he felt that he wanted company; didn't need it like he'd done when he'd hugged Meadows in desperation, but merely wanted the easy company of a friend.

'He's alive. He's gonna be okay,' and the empty flat seemed to throw his words back at him, turn them into a celebration. 'Jack's alright.' _And Smithy knows about us, I guess that's why I want him here…wouldn't have to hide it with him._

He forced himself to wait until the next evening to call Meadows. He'd thought that he'd forgotten the mobile number as he'd forgotten so much of his past, but once he'd made the decision, it come back easily.

'Hi, Jack. How ya doing?'

'Mickey!' Surprised and pleased though he was, Michael could hear the roughness of pain in his voice. 'I'm going to live, they said.'

'Course you are. You wouldn't have left me alone, would you?'

'Not unless you wanted me to. You…you did come down here the other night, didn't you?'

'Yeah. Smithy took me down there.'

'Did see you, then. I thought it was you, wasn't sure.'

'I spoke to you, Jack. Had a conversation with you. Don't you remember?' Fear edged into his voice, a sudden dread that something was seriously wrong with the DCI.

'They said I was semi-conscious most of the time. I thought I might have dreamt it, you know. Not all of it made sense, what I remember.'

'You would have dreamed about me?' _I'd've thought you were too old for that…I didn't think you loved me like that, enough to dream about me, after how I left you…thought it was just me._

'I dream about you a lot of the time, Mick.'

'Michael. Not Mickey.' He tried not to remember Jack whispering or calling 'Mickey' as they made love. _Does he say Debbie's name like he used to say mine? _'What was wrong with you, anyway?'

'Heart attack, they said. No real damage done. Honest, I'll be okay.'

'Jack, I'm sorry.' He didn't understand what he was apologising for; Jack's illness, his own weakness - his own existence and the grief that he'd caused the man he loved.

'It was good of you to come and see me. 'Preciate it. Me and Debbie did.'

Michael shook his head, mutely, for a second. 'Debbie? Where's she fit in?' _I guess you're with her; that's not right, not fair…I love you, Jack…_

'Oh, Mickey…I didn't want to talk about Debbie. Not now, not today…'

It was confirmation that Michael hadn't needed or wanted; there was a subtle change to his voice as he said Debbie's name, but he missed the change that had been there when he said 'Mickey' because he'd heard it so often before. _You love her. _'No, Jack…I don't wanna talk 'bout that, either. Look, how long you in there for?'

'Few days.'

'I'll come see you 'gain if you want. If' _if I can get the nerve to walk into a hospital again, now I know you won't die _'if Debbie doesn't mind me being there.'

Meadows ignored that. _I want you here, Mick. I'm getting old and I hurt and I'm scared; I want you with me._ It hurt to admit all that to himself, for him to acknowledge that he wanted Mickey there much more than he wanted Debbie's company. 'You'd be okay with the hospital?'

'Yeah…You said, once, that if MIT didn't work, you'd come with me, somewhere upcountry or whatever….I'll come to the hospital.' It sounded petty beside what Meadows had offered him, but the DCI was aware of what Mickey had committed himself to.

'Mickey, look, if it's too much then leave it. I'll be out soon.'

'No.' _God, I've missed you, Jack. And I don't want to do this, I don't want to go back there, but it's the only thing you've ever really asked me for so I've got to do it. _'I'll come up tomorrow, Eva'll cover for me. She won't mind. Long as Debbie doesn't fuss about it.'

Meadows was too tired, too ill to think about his answer. 'Debbie loves me. She won't mind if I say I want you to be there.'

_I love you. _The words were a silent scream in his mind. 'You and Debbie are together.' It wasn't a question.

'Leave it, Mickey.'

'Mo, I won't. I want to know whether or not you're with her; why you're with her.' The jealousy overrode his caution, his intentions of not upsetting Meadows while he was so ill.

'You left. You didn't want me to come with you, and I didn't think you'd come back. You thought I was going to stay on my own forever?' _I wish you'd understand that I still love you. She isn't anything to me, just a friend. I can't help it if she loves me._

'I thought…' _It wasn't my fault, Jack._

_I know. _'You made the choice; it wasn't mine.'

'It wasn't mine, either. I had to get out. Next thing I hear, you've let Debbie move in with you.'

'She hasn't moved in with me.' He'd never invited her into the flat that he and Mickey had shared, aware that she would be unable to compete with the memories. 'I'm still here, Mickey. Whatever happens.'

'No, you ain't. You're off with her. She's got to approve of what you do, of me coming to see you again. It'll be just like it was when you were with Laura, won't it? Remember, I come round to your place and she stormed out; it'll be like that.' _And I don't want to be second to her, not for you._

'You're always welcome, Mick. She won't change that, no way.'

'You reckon? Jack…I love you.'

A long pause, as though Meadows was trying to think of a reply. His breathing was harsh and irregular, painful. Michael knew that he should feel something about how ill the other man still was, but he was too hurt and angry to think of anything beyond the image of Debbie and Jack kissing.

'I know you do.'

_No, you don't or you wasn't thinking, else you would never have got with Debbie. _'Does that mean that I still come second to her?'

'You wanted to be alone, Mickey. That was your choice; I only did what you wanted. I didn't ignore you because I was with Debbie.'

'I didn't want…' Michael's voice trailed off; he couldn't remember what he'd actually wanted at the time or even what he wanted now, except for Meadows to be alright. _It's because of Delaney, that's why he hates me now. Had to happen. I slept with someone else; that's all he's doing now_.

'Jack…Be lucky, yeah?' He put the phone down, ignored it when it rung almost immediately and eventually pulled it off the hook. He hated himself for what he'd done to Meadows - whatever the Dalesman had done to him, he was ill and Michael still loved him - and he hated Meadows for what he'd done. _It all traces back to Delaney though, don't it, 'cos if he hadn't…I'd never have left, an' he would have stayed with me. Bastard wrecked my life. Wrecked my fucking life._

He got to his feet, wanting to pace again, but the flat felt too small for that to be effective; four strides covered most of the floorspace, and his steps echoed. It was empty, too empty. Eventually, he started flicking through his CDs, searching for one that wasn't associated with Meadows.

The two Libertines albums were there; Up The Bracket that he'd bullied Jack into listening to, and the second one that he'd brought a few weeks ago. It was that which he put on, so loud that it filled the emptiness of his flat.

"An ending fitting for a start, you twisted and tore our love apart." Michael was surprised that he could still sing; he'd enjoyed it in the past but rarely did so now. This track seemed so apt, it was like explaining all his feelings to Jack without him hearing. "I can't stand me now…

"Can't take me anywhere, I'll take you anywhere you wanna go…You can't stand me now…I can't stand me now."

The words hurt and healed, equally. By the time he'd played the album through twice, he was nearly asleep and subconsciously, he'd made the decision that he hadn't thought out when he run away from Sun Hill - that he was leaving the DCI. Not giving himself time alone but ending the relationship on his terms, splitting up, whatever he wanted to describe it as.

He couldn't decide if he hated Jack, Debbie or Delaney more. _Hate myself, I guess…Can't stand me now.__ It's me that's wrong in all of this, always me and what I did._


	41. Merry Christmas, Blue Eyes

The DCI was glad to be home, even if it was nearly a week since he'd spoken to Mickey and the flat reminded him painfully of the younger man as he had been; laughing and eager, alive. The memories hovered on the edge of his mind all that first night back in the bed that he'd once shared with Mickey, and until Debbie come to see him.

He still felt tired and confused; realistically, he knew that only some of that had been caused by Smithy's visit two days before and the message from Mickey that the sergeant had passed on. 'Bye, Jack. Look after yourself. I will.' The rest of it was the result of his heart attack, of the years that he'd pushed himself beyond what he could endure, and all he wanted to do was sleep. _If Mickey was here, I could tell him that; he wouldn't mind that I didn't want to talk. She doesn't know when to be quiet, does she? Leave me alone, leave me alone…_

'Hello, Jack.'

'Debbie.' She walked in and sat down, not sprawling and comfortable with a leg hooked over the chair arm like Mickey used to. It was enough that Meadows felt he had to sit up and make an effort to talk to her; it no longer felt natural.

'Isn't Mickey round then?'

_Chance would be a fine thing. _'He's busy over at MIT; I can't expect him to be down here all the time.' There was an edge to his voice.

'He had time to be at the hospital the other day.'

'What's the problem with Mickey being around?'

'There isn't a problem with you having friends round. There's a problem with him kissing you. I want to know what's going on with him.'

'We were mates, since when he first come here…When Laura kicked me out, he let me come and stay here, then he moved away and I took the rent over. That's what.'

'No, it ain't, Jack. I thought you were straight, not sleeping with Mickey Webb. He hardly made a secret of it the other night.'

_Why did you have to do that, Mickey? You managed to keep it quiet for so long…I guess you were jealous of her, and I don't suppose I can blame you for that. You stupid bugger…_ 'I never slept with Mickey.' _That's probably true as well; trying to sleep next to him thrashing about, or lay there when all he wanted to do was talk wasn't exactly the best way to get any sleep._

'Don't lie to me, Jack.'

'Look, what there was between me and Mickey was my business. Leave him out of it, Debbie, because I'll know if you start having a dig at him.' _No, I won't really, will I, because he's not talking to me because of you…else he would have told me._

'You admit that there was something going on, then? Why didn't you tell me about it?' Abruptly, she got to her feet, one hand tugging at her long hair.

'Why should I? I never asked you who else you've been with. Me and Mickey were in the past, okay, that's why I didn't tell you. It doesn't matter.' _In the past…_He hated saying the words, granting it truth. _Me and Mickey in the past…the past. Over. Done with._

'Doesn't it? Shouldn't it matter to a woman if she finds out that her bloke's gay?' She hissed the words at him, anger only partly masking revulsion.

'It wasn't like that with Mickey, alright? His life was falling apart; you weren't around after the fire to see what he was going through. He didn't have anyone else to look after him, to love him - I promised I'd look after him, that was all. He needed me.' _And I needed him as well, and he saved me._

'Even if he needed you to look after him, he didn't need you to have a relationship with him.'

'I loved him, alright? An' I felt sorry for him; it was what he wanted. It was the only thing he ever asked me for, Debbie. And I did everything I could to look after him; I had to.' _Because I thought he'd leave or something, and I just wanted him to stay around where I was, because I didn't want to loose him. Not Mickey…But I've lost him now, haven't I? _

'So you went to bed with him once? Is that it right?'

'We lived together, Debbie. Nine, ten months, alright? That's what me and Mickey had, understand?'

'You'll hardly kiss me, but you'll have something like that with - with - a man. With Mickey?'

'What's the problem with that? Mick's the only man I've ever been interested in, had sex with, anything like that…I've been married, you know that._' And I gave it up for Mickey, and yes, I'd do that again._

'And what about Mickey? What number were you on his conquest sheet, then?'

'He said, once, that I wasn't the first man he'd been with, and that's all I know, alright? You wouldn't have minded if that had been Eva or something.'

'You don't understand!' She spun away and refused to look at him. 'You - you slept with Mickey.'

'You think I'm still with him, don't you? Me and Mickey split after he left Sun Hill, and that was a while before I got with you, so it's not anything to do with you. It's over, Debbie, so it isn't a problem.' _No, there isn't a problem because if he ever wanted me back, I'd go and sod you - that isn't a problem, it's a promise._

'Why'd you and Mickey split up?'

He remembered kneeling by a grave, his lover crying with his head pressed hard against Jack's chest. 'He raped me, Jack, he raped me.' And later, Mickey leaning against him in the darkened room. 'Do you hate me?'

'Mickey left because of something that happened to him - he had to get away from here and I just kept reminding him of it, so he left. That's Mickey's issue, what happened to him. I'm not going to explain that; start telling you about what's private between me and Mickey.'

'You mean there's more private stuff than the fact you were shagging him?'

'Leave it.' He sighed heavily.

Debbie glanced over at him, seeing that he was pale enough that his silvered hair looked bright, and she actually felt sorry for him; he looked ill. 'You alright?'

'I - miss him.' It was an instinctive, truthful answer; an explanation of why he wasn't all right and didn't think he ever would be again.

'You're not alone; I'll be around.'

'You aren't Mickey.' _Good job you aren't, really_. 'I miss him, Debbie. I was so close to him, not like I've been with anyone else, really, so I just miss him so much and now he's moved away…' He shook his head, glanced over to where Mickey's stereo equipment had been; the part of the flat that had been his the most, where peeling wallpaper marked where he'd taped posters of football teams and bands to the wall. 'He's gone, Debbie…gone.'

'If you an' him have split up, it don't matter. Just forget about him.'

'No.'

'If that's how you feel…' her voice was brittle and angry, so loud that Meadows winced.

'I still love him, Debbie. I can't help it.' _And I've spent too long hiding it; I'm not lying about him and me anymore._

'Okay. Fine. It's great to know I come second to some East End wide boy with a dirty secret.'

He surged to his feet, anger overriding exhaustion. 'Don't you - ever - say that about Mickey.' The words were forced through clenched teeth.

'No, I won't. You know why? Because I'm not ever going to speak to you about him, ever again. You get that? Mainly because, right now, I'm not planning on talking to you about anything ever again. I trusted you, right, and you never thought to tell me that you're gay…If you had…if it wasn't Mickey…Someone else…'

'Shut up.' He shouted the words and turned away from her. _Get out, leave me alone. _His stance and expression told Debbie that their relationship was over as explicitly as Smithy's relayed message from Mickey had done. 'Get out.'

'I wouldn't want to stay in his place. I guess it was him that you was thinking about when you were with me, wasn't it?'

'Don't flatter yourself, Debbie. He still means more to me than you've ever done. He doesn't mind me being what I am.'

Unsteadily, he walked over and held the door open until she'd walked out and downstairs, out of sight. Then he turned, went back into the flat and over to the shelf where he kept his wedding ring, cheque book and the like. The scotch. He drunk it neat, remembering the only time that he'd seen Mickey drinking it - in a pub, a few weeks after he'd watched a man die. Just minutes before they'd kissed for the first time.

_Oh, Mickey…I wish you'd never found out about Debbie. I never meant to do that to you. I'm so, so sorry._ He drunk some more, worked out the date - a week before Christmas. _Merry Christmas, Mick, merry bloody Christmas, Blue Eyes…_

A/N – To me, the line Jack remembers Mickey saying -'Do you hate me?' is the key one of the whole fic. Anyone answering 'yes' is advised to get out the way of a baseball bat.

I am moving house in the next week, so expect some delays in posting while I sort out packing etc. Please don't think I've given up… All the best for now.


	42. I'm Liz

_Oh, God, oh God, I can't do this. Can't do it, can't remember any of it. _Michael swallowed hard, trying not to throw up, then grinned nervously at the rest of the group, wanting to distract himself. Three more men and two women, one of whom had long blonde hair and a ready smile for him. _Twenty minutes before they let us in…let's get it over with._

'No fun, is it, this waiting.' It was the blonde woman, edging over to him. 'I'm Liz. Based up at the NCS.'

'Michael; I'm with MIT.' He brushed his hair back - it was past his shoulders now - and half turned so that he was facing her. 'No, it isn't, but I don't guess it'll be any better once we get in there.'

'No, probably won't. You know, though, don't you, that they won't make you sergeant with hair like that?'

'Wanna bet?' He grinned at her again, enjoying the easy conversation that he'd missed for the past two months; longer really, because a couple of worried conversations with Jack in December didn't count. 'You really wanna bet on it?'

She laughed. 'If you put it like that, probably not. But you know they don't like scruffy people higher up?'

'Me, scruffy?' It was only then that he realised he'd gone back to wearing jeans and tatty shirts in the past month. _Have I finally got over Delaney, then? No, but…_ He'd hidden for so long afterwards, trying to make himself unattractive with the suits and ties that he'd never considered that his appearance now - long hair, tight black jeans and a Nirvana t-shirt - could be scruffy and unattractive. Apart from the length of his hair, it was the way he'd looked when Jack had loved him.

'Yes, you, uh…Michael. But not unpleasantly so.' Liz run one hand over her face, then smiled at him. 'Anyway, good luck with it.'

'Yeah, you too, mate. An' you lot.' He acknowledged the rest of them and walked into the examination room. Suddenly, he felt confident about the exam, able to remember all the details and ideas he'd read so many times in the past forty-eight hours. _You'd be well happy with me, Jack._

'That wasn't so bad, was it, Michael?'

'Aaarghh.' He run his fingers through his hair, feeling that it was slick with sweat and trying to smooth it down. 'That wasn't good.'

'You finished it all, though?'

'Yeah.' He stood up and stretched before walking out with Liz beside him.' I'm going for a drink. Fancy coming?'

'Sounds good. Where?'

'First pub I get to, exams not being my favourite occupation.'

'Not arranged to meet your mates for a celebratory piss-up then?'

'Haven't been at MIT long enough to have got to be mates with 'em all that much.' _Like five months isn't long enough to get to know them, and Dunc's always too busy with smooth-talking his way to the top and Eva keeps fussing about Jack and Debbie and telling me everything that's going on at Sun Hill and I don't want to know about it. Suppose Jack might have come but I guess he would have wanted to bring Debbie._

'Hey, are you okay, Michael?'

'Yeah…need a drink, that's all. C'mon, let's go.' He jumped into his car and drove off pub hunting with Liz following. It took him a while to find one that he could face, one that was quiet and nearly empty; his regained confidence hadn't increased to the stage where he was comfortable around large groups.

He brought her a drink, dimly aware that this was shifting into territory he hadn't touched on for a long while. Before Delaney, before Jack and the deep, secret, love they'd enjoyed, he couldn't remember the last woman he'd been with.

'How comes you hadn't organised a booze-up with your lot, Liz?'

'Oh, well…My DCI, Bryce, he's a bastard for keeping noses to the grindstone and we've got a few big cases on, so he's keeping everyone on overtime. And…well, I split up with my bloke a while back, so I don't really feel like celebrating.' She glanced sideways at him.

'You and me both.'

'You single, then?' It was a blatant question that made Michael uneasy with it's implications. He tried to imagine kissing her; he could see that, but anything further … it revolted and frightened him.

'My partner found someone who suited their lifestyle better.' _Someone he could go out with, and kiss in public, be seen with. Someone who'd stay with him. _'Back in December.'

'Oh.' She switched the topic and they spent the next hour talking about work, music, anything. She tried to ask a bit about his past but he avoided it, too aware of the memories and how much it would hurt.

By 8PM, Michael was exhausted; he'd spent the previous night worrying over the exam, and apart from sitting it today, being with Liz had been equally stressful. _I like her. She's alright, but….if she thinks I'm handsome then…well, that was what Delaney thought about me, wasn't it? Too pretty to hurt…_

'Shall we call it a night, then?'

'Yeah.' Normally, he would have invited her out for dinner but he wanted, needed, to be alone for a while now.

'Thanks for this, Michael. Look, I've enjoyed tonight. If you wanted to see me again…' She took a diary from her bag, scribbled two numbers on one page and handed it to him. 'That's my home and my mobile.'

_Look grateful even if you only want Jack's new mobile. This is the best you're likely to get, more than I deserve and….I don't want to be a monk for the rest of my life. _'Cheers. This is mine.'

He scribbled his details down and gave them over, careful to avoid touching her hand as he did so. 'Gotta go now. See you 'round, yeah?'

She stood up and walked over to him, standing uncomfortably close, then leant forward and kissed him on the cheek. It horrified him and terrified him, but Michael couldn't help smiling, then and for the rest of the evening.

A/N – Packing be damned. They've screwed up my moving date to Monday instead of Saturday, so as I'm living out of a few cases, I thought I'd make the most of my time. Should have time for another chapter or two.


	43. Please get in touch, Mick

'Hello? That DCI Meadows?'

'Duncan?' Meadows' voice conveyed his alarm; he hadn't heard from the Scottish DS for months now, ever since he'd decided that he didn't ought to keep tabs on Mickey. 'Is everything okay?'

'I think so, guv. Look, Michael…Mickey, I know you didn't want to know about how he was doing or anything but I thought I should tell you…'

'Tell me what?'

'You know he did his sergeant's exams, what, a month or so back, mid February, don't you?'

'No.' _Wish I'd known; would have thought of you, wished you luck even if you aren't talking to me. Not like Debbie could have complained about that now. '_He never told me he was doing them.'

'Well…It was a pretty snap decision he made; only decided in December that he was going to take them, and I'm not sure how he actually was allowed to do the course after he left it so late. Never had a word out of him, all through January; couldn't believe the work he was putting in. But he got 'em and then he put in for a transfer.'

'Why?' Meadows cut vehemently across Duncan. 'Wasn't he happy at MIT? Couldn't he cope with it or something?' _You bastards, that was the only thing that he ever wanted after what Delaney did to him; God help me, if you've ruined it for him, I'll kill the lot of you…He didn't put in to come back to Sun Hill, did he? Okaro would have told me, surely, unless they've only just decided it…God, tell me that he did and that he's coming back. _

'Nope; he had delusions of grandeur I think, actually,' and Duncan laughed. 'Once he got the exams, and I hear he did really well in them, he applied straight away, and they gave him the transfer, no problem. Did fantastic to get it.'

_Not back here, then. _That realisation stung, but Meadows was more surprised by the momentary flash of relief. _I won't have to apologise to him about Debbie now; guess I won't ever have to explain anything else to him, ever. Maybe that's for the best because at least I won't have to lie to him. Won't have to see him the day they let Delaney out or anything like that. _'Where to?' _Back to Dagenham, maybe…but that isn't grandeur, is it?_

'The National Crime Squad. Playing with the big boys.'

'The NCS…' Meadows couldn't help grinning with pride in his former lover. That was where he'd worked, so many years and years before he'd met Mickey; the place that had taught him so much of what he'd taught Mickey. 'Good for him.' _And I didn't think, when I met him at Dagenham the first time, he'd ever end up somewhere like that unless he was under observation by them or something._

'I thought I'd let you know about it, anyway, guv.'

'Thanks…why?'

'Because you were so concerned about him when he first transferred that I thought you had a right to know. No-one else seemed to care or keep in touch with him, so I wanted someone to know where he's off to… And he thinks a lot of you, Mickey does.'

'How'd you work that one out?' _Used to, Duncan, used to. Before I let him down so badly, I guess he did, but not now. Not anymore. _

'What, that he thinks the world of you? He talks about you a bit, more than he does about anyone else. You and Smithy; few of the old lot sometimes, like Boulton, but never any of the others. Get the impression he respects you; he runs everyone else down if they upset him, but never you. I'm surprised that he didn't keep in touch with you, really.'

'I remind him too much, Duncan. Every time I'm around him, I just remind him, and he can't bear that. It's easier for him this way.' _Harder for me, but that doesn't matter. Why should he care about me, after what I said to him?_

'I'm sorry.' It was the deep sadness in Meadows' voice that alerted Duncan; reminded him of how he'd once sensed something between the DCI and Mickey, and it was obvious now. 'You…that Celtic ring that he wears, you gave that to him, didn't you?'

'Yes.' _At least he kept that, kept something from it all. What about your West Ham programme I gave you; because the ring was for me as much as you, but that was yours. Like I was. I hope you've kept it._

Duncan edged off of that subject. 'It's a good job he's got now, guv, he's going to be fine. He was always headed to that sort of work; he had a good boss to teach him.'

'I hope so.' Meadows cut the call as short as he could, then hung up and dialled Mickey's number. He couldn't imagine the young blonde man that he'd loved being called Michael; couldn't imagine himself ever using that name. _Guess you'll always be Mickey to me. Mickey Blue Eyes._

'Please leave a message.' Mickey's answerphone, his voice curt and the Cockney accent subdued, as though he was making a conscious effort to deny his background. Change what he was and had been.

'Mickey, it's Jack. Someone told me that you've just got your sergeants' exams and that you're moving up to the NCS. That right? It's a bloody good result, you know. Please get in touch, Mick…' He nearly added 'I love you' to the message, then remembered the anguish in Mickey's voice the last time they'd spoken. _If I do that to you, I don't suppose I've got any right to say that I do love you._

_Please get in touch, I've split up with Debbie; I could get back with you if you wanted it, because I'm on my own now and I miss you. Miss you more than I missed Laura…But, I'm so proud of you; wish I could tell you that. DS Webb, NCS, sounds __good. _


	44. My old Guv'nor Jack Meadows

Michael smiled to himself as he walked, trying and not succeeding to keep the swagger out of his step. Liz was walking beside him, close enough to warn any of the other women officers off, and she was smiling as well, pleased at being able to show the DS around her territory. He followed her attentively, until he suddenly backtracked and stared intently at a framed photograph hung slightly above his eye level.

'What is it, Michael?' She stopped and walked back to him, curious. The picture was unremarkable; a group of five men in dress uniform at a ceremony of some kind, but the blonde man was looking at it in something close to awe. She had to repeat herself to get his attention. 'What is it?'

He pointed at the man in the centre of the group, a heavy set superintendent with thick chestnut hair won long. Even in the photo, his keen blue eyes were striking. 'My old guv'nor. Jack Meadows.'

'You sound like you thought a lot of him.'

'He was a good guv'nor. The best.' Taking a last look at the picture, he walked off. 'The best at a hell of a lot of things.' The man in the picture was handsome, very obviously in the prime of his life, but Michael could hardly compare him to the Jack Meadows he'd come to know. There was a hardness in his eyes, a certain arrogance, that he'd never seen there in real life. _I wish I'd known him then…maybe, but I don't suppose he'd have wanted to know a mere DC then, would he? I would have been below his notice, I guess._

It took all his resolve not to glance back over his shoulder and stare at the picture once more, to remind himself of how much he loved the Dalesman.

'So, Michael, what you reckon about it?'

'Bout what? Oh, working here…Yeah, it's alright, I guess. Everyone seems okay, an' I've got a flat pretty near here, so it'll be a lot easier than MIT was.'

'Why'd you leave that? Would have thought it was a pretty good job.'

_Because I couldn't get used to thinking of Duncan as my boss, instead of one of the lads, and then Eva came, and she kept going on about Sun Hill, and Jack… _'Dunno, really. Time for a change, that sorta thing.'

'Nothing to do with me, then?'

'Oh, might 'ave been.' He grinned and flicked his hair back. She'd been everything to do with his decision to come here, nothing whatsoever to do with his desire - his need - to leave MIT.

'That's a nice thing to say. Look, my turn to buy you a drink?'

'Yeah, why not?

He followed her down to the pub; later, up to the curry place. It was enough, in the same 

way that Jack's undemanding company had been enough after Kate's death to stop him hurting; to keep him almost sane. Almost happy, perhaps more so than he'd been since he'd left Sun Hill, and certainly more than he would have believed possible with a woman.

She kissed him at the end of the evening, standing outside her house. Michael closed his eyes as her tongue pressed against his lips; refused to allow the kiss to deepen and unwilling to have her arms wrapped so firmly around his shoulders. Her scent, something floral and so light that he was sure that it had to be very expensive, swamped him. The whole experience was too much, he didn't want anything so tactile and intimate, although he'd enjoyed the evening until then. His own sweat, icy cold and reeking of fear, was trickling over his eyes and lips.

'Are you okay?' Liz stepped away, looking down at him.

'Yeah.' _How can I tell her? God, how could I ever tell anyone else about Delaney and what happened…I couldn't even tell Jack properly and I loved him… _Michael wasn't aware of the two steps that he took, that left him with his back pressed against the cold marble-fronted wall, and safe from memories.

'You are a shy one, aren't you?'

'It's just been a while, that's all, Liz.' The words sounded loud to him, although he'd thought it was only a whisper that he'd spoken in.

'First time, I would have said.' She smiled archly at him. 'Want to try again, Mickey?'

It was the diminution of his name rather than the invitation that terrified him, bringing him to the verge of a flashback. 'Don't call me that.' 

'Why? It suits you.' 

'Don't, Liz. I don' like it, 'kay?'

'Alright, don't snap at me.'

_I'm sorry. _The words reverberated in his mind, hurting him, and it took an effort to force even a half smile onto his face. 'Long day, that's all…And so's you know, this isn't my first time.'

'I'm surprised it isn't, with hair like that.' He heard the sarcasm in that comment and it stung, but Liz put her arms around him and kissed him again. He still felt intimidated; too much to allow him to relax and enjoy it, but he stood there and took it, too weary to do anything else even though it took all his courage to tolerate it, and he had to imagine that the person cupping one hand around his face as they kissed was Jack rather than Liz.

'You going to come inside?'

He threw his head back so hard that he cracked the back of his skull against the wall. 'No. Really, Liz, I've got to go. Late as it is.' The words tumbled too quickly from his dry mouth. 'Bye.' He slipped away, glad that his car was nearby so that she could only watch him for a few seconds before he accelerated away.

He switched the CD player on his new flat as soon as he got back, trying to take comfort from the music that blacked out reality, and it worked until the compilation got to a Libertines album track that he'd burnt, and he had to listen to Pete Doherty grinding out the lines he'd heard a thousand times. 

"If you've lost your faith in love an' music, then the end won't be long - there's nothing…' It had seemed relevant to him ever since he'd first played it, but not now - he hadn't lost his faith in love. _I could love her…Sometime in the future, I think that I could._


	45. I'll never forget him

Meadows had almost - almost - forgotten Mickey. It did hurt to know that their lives had gone separate ways, but he was old enough to know that it happened. Friends lost touch, lovers did. He hadn't heard from Laura for longer than he'd been missing Mickey, and Debbie's abrupt departure from Sun Hill as well as his life - that was much more recent; should hurt more than it did.

_I've got over him. It's done, finished, and it hurts a lot less if I keep thinking that. _He felt Neil Manson staring at him, rather than hearing the pause in the DI's words, and he looked up to see the black haired man pacing around his office.

'Yes, Neil?'

'Guv, it's like I was saying. We need more men in CID; I can't keep running the department like this. It's ridiculous.'

_I thought it was my department. _'I know.'

'Look, without Eva, we're really struggling. She actually used to work, solve things, like Mickey Webb did. Ideally, I'd get both of 'em to transfer back here.'

_Why not bring John Boulton back from the dead while you're at it, so I can make him up to DI instead of you? _'Alright, Neil. I'll bring it up with Okaro again, next time I talk to him. Do you reckon there's anyone in uniform we could get up here on an acting basis?'

'No, not really. Debbie McAllister leaving was a problem as well, losing a decent, experienced, sergeant. You any idea why she left?'

Shrewd dark eyes bored into his, making Meadows uneasy. The Scouse DI was too sharp to have missed something like that, and it was obvious now that he'd been biding his time to quiz the DCI about it. 'Yes, I know. It was personal reasons, nothing more than that.'

'What, like looking after Chandler's kid?'

'Leave it out, Neil.' Wearily, Meadows shook his head, very aware of the difference in their ages. Manson was Mickey's general age, early thirties, but there was a ruthlessness about him that Mickey lacked. It was easy for Meadows to imagine him as Sun Hill's DCI, his successor.

'Sir.' There was an edge to Manson's voice as he turned and walked out the office, squeezing past someone in the doorway.

'Tosser.'

'Sorry, Smithy?' Meadows couldn't hide his amusement at hearing the younger man voice his own opinion of the DI.

'Manson- he is, you know. I dunno 'ow you put up wiv him. He does my head in an' I don't have to see him everyday.'

'I take it you had a more serious reason for coming to see me than to moan about my inspector?'

Smithy settled himself in the spare seat with a casualness that made Meadows smile. If there was anything good from losing Mickey, it was the surly friendship of the ex-army man. 'What, apart from congratulating you again on chucking Debbie?'

'Doesn't strike me as that serious.'

'I'm sure Mickey'd think it was. No, just wondered if you were up for a drink tonight, that was all. Could use some company if you don't mind.'

'Might as well.'

'Don't die of enthusiasm, then, boss.'

The evening spent with Smithy was pleasant enough - drinking, playing pool, drinking again - and it was that lowering of defences that meant they ended up talking about Mickey. Smithy wanted to talk; any silence left him with too much time to think, and Meadows twisted the conversation around until they were reminiscing about Mickey; how they'd met him, and what they remembered most about him. It didn't strike Meadows as odd until Smithy asked him outright about it.

'I don't mind but you never let him be…I've not 'eard you go on about anyone else so much. Why do you keep on about him?'

'Because… because the more I keep talking about him, the less I'm going to forget.' Meadows knew then, talking about him, how much he'd been deceiving himself earlier - he hadn't got over Mickey at all.

Smithy shook his head. 'You won't forget him; it don't work like that. If it did, I woulda forgot Kerry already. Be a lot better if that was how we all coped.'

_Tell me about it. _'Sorry, Smithy.'_ You always seem so calm about that; I forget she's only been gone a few weeks - don't mean to keep reminding you._

'Don't worry. Look, Mickey…do you know where he is now? Working, I mean.'

'At the NCS. Sergeant, now. Why?'

'Have you tried getting in touch with him?'

'Not since I heard he'd got his exams. Called him but he never got back to me. Guess he still thinks that I'm with Debbie and he's angry with me.' Angry wasn't the right word exactly; jealous seemed too childish but he felt it might be more accurate. Meadows was aware of the whining tone of his voice and horrifically aware of how he must sound to Smithy, who's bereavement still showed in every line of his face.

'Did you tell him you'd left Debbie?'

'No. You told me what he said, remember? He doesn't want anything to do with me.'

'Try telling him. Phone him again or something - just do something. Try.'

Meadows looked up, caught Smithy's eye as the background music changed to a track that Mickey and him had heard on the radio once; one that Mickey had claimed to loath but still known every word of the lyrics - Robbie Williams, She's The One. He wasn't sure if Smithy would be able to listen to it, but although his mouth tightened, he sat there in silence until the track finished.

'You okay, Smithy?'

'Yeah…Yeah. If I minded songs, I'd never go out anywhere. It's okay, guv.' There was a catch to his voice, and he dropped his gaze. 'Kerry never got the chance to be happy. Mickey was, before Delaney and everything that he went through. When he was with you, he was happy.'

Abruptly, he turned away from Meadows. 'Don't take it the wrong way, guv, but Mickey - I care a hell of a lot for him. He deserves better - that's why I wanted to know if you'd kept in touch wit' him.'

'He's happy, Smithy. Leave it as it is.' Meadows changed the subject, away from the people they'd loved. _Never, ever again. Should have learnt from Laura; it's never worth the price you have to pay._


	46. Nothing until marriage

Michael half-opened one eye, peered around for Liz. She was down by the sea, in a crowd of other women, her skin a dark bronze after their week here. The novelty of being abroad for the first time in his life, even the strangeness of not having to worry about the costs because Liz was paying for everything, had worn off, and he couldn't help feeling bored with the trip.

'Hello, sweetheart.' She'd wandered up from the sea to where he was sprawled on the sand, trying not to think that he'd rather be struggling through pre-season drills with the local Saturday football team that had signed him despite his not having turned out the previous season. Morocco felt, suddenly, more of a prison than London ever had.

'Lizzy.' He sat up, reached one arm around her shoulders as she sat down by him.

'Mmm…sun's bleached your hair, Mick. It's practically fluorescent yellow now.' She run her fingers over his hair, now cut back to only shoulder length.

_Jack used to do that. _'Wouldn't if we'd stayed at home.'

'You're enjoying it, then?'

'Yeah.' He lied quickly, before he had a chance to regret doing so. _No, this isn__'__t my sort of thing, it__'__s too wild, too far from home - I__'__m out my depth, don__'__t speak the language, and there__'__s too many people here anyway._

'Good. You coming swimming?'

'No.' He'd steadfastly refused swimming, every day since they'd arrived.

'Why not? C'mon, you're no fun to be with when you're like this…Or, if you want, we could go back to the hotel and -'

He cut across her. 'I'm fine here, Liz. It's nice, just having a rest, an' the sun an' everything…' He didn't want to swim; his shorts to plaster themselves close to his body and then have to walk back past the other men.

'I'm sorry if this isn't your sort of thing, Michael. Just thought you might enjoy coming away for a bit. You know, spending some time with me.'

It had been Liz's decision to come away, her choice of destination; a month after his transfer to MIT, she'd announced them as a couple. Quite often, he felt he had no real say in their relationship -_but at least she__'__s someone; I won__'__t spend the rest of my life alone._ 'Honest, I'm enjoying it.'

'Good.' She laid down next to him, enjoying the warmth of the sand as she lit a cigarette. 'Want one?'

'I don't smoke, Liz. You know that.'

'You won't smoke, you won't go swimming, you won't go to bed with me. Anything you will do?'

He sighed, shaking his head and grimacing as sand got in his hair. 'Give it a break. I don't smoke cos I play football, and I'm too old for that really, so no way am I gonna slow myself down even more, and I'm not swimming because I don't feel like swimming. An', I won't sleep…' Embarrassed, he stuttered to a halt.

_She__'__s rich, pretty, she likes me__…__Few years back, I wouldn__'__t have been able to wait__…__Before I met Kate, knew what it was all meant to be like. Shouldn__'__t be like this is. _That was a blinding observation; over the past two months, he'd heard Liz say they were in love so often that he'd started to believe it himself. He'd been quite happy to follow her out here; he was in awe of her but he didn't love her. She was too strong, too rich and glamorous, beyond him.

'You won't sleep with me. Why?'

Face flaming, he glanced around to see if anyone else could hear, but this part of the beach was relatively empty. 'Because…' _because quite frankly, I don__'__t fancy you enough and__…_He felt ashamed admitting it even to himself, but he didn't feel like having sex with anyone _even Jack, I wouldn__'__t want it._ It didn't scare him now; he just didn't want to allow anyone to get that close to him.

'Because…' There was ice in her voice; the tone startled Michael so that he shied away from her, sitting up. 'Are you going to enlighten me on that one, or does it just link in with the rest of your hang-ups?'

'It's not like that.' His voice was barely a whisper. _God, we sound like Mum and him fighting. Did they start out like this, before he started getting handy with his fists? I__'__ve only hurt one person, really - _that had been Delaney, his actions caused more by terror than rage - _I__'__d never hit her__…__No, more than one, I hit Smithy, didn__'__t I? Is that what I__'__m going to end up as?_

'Explain?'

Something snapped inside of him; he got up and walked away, heading back to their hotel room. The only aspect of that trip that he'd insisted on was a twin room, and once Liz came in, late that night and so worked up that he could feel her antagonism across the room, he was grateful for it. Trying to ignore the fact that she'd turned the lights out, he closed his eyes, and thought, rather than spoke, a prayer.

'Aren't you going to speak to me, then?'

'I was busy, Liz.' Busy trying to sleep, to ignore you and stop wondering where the hell you get your money from.

'Doing what? Getting yourself off?'

'Praying.' Occasionally, he'd prayed in front of Meadows. The big DCI had never commented on it, just watched and waited, then kissed him. Accepting him. And if, a couple of times Meadows had seen him getting himself off, he'd just laughed and accepted that. Accepted everything about him; loved him.

'You? You get pissed and swear, and beyond all that, you spend all your time hanging out with coppers or footballers. Not really religious, is it?'

_You missed out the sleeping with other men. _'I'm not religious like that, Liz. Look, I'm sorry if I was bothering you.'

'Least I know why you won't sleep with me. Guess you're one of these nothing until you're married sort.'

He lied quickly, unwilling to continue the argument because he just wanted to sleep. If he slept, he could loose himself in the memories of laying in their bed, held by and holding Jack, as they had sex. 'Yeah. Nothing until marriage…'

'Until marriage…' She repeated thoughtfully.


	47. Be my best man, Jack

'Jack' was the only thing he'd managed to write so far, despite having been sat here for nearly an hour. The name alone was enough to confuse him.

'What you writing, Mickey?'

He'd given up trying to correct her on that, as he had on so much else. _It's easier this way, isn't it? _'Letter to an old mate of mine.'

'Taking your time, aren't you? Couldn't you just call him?'

'Lost his number.' _I don't want to speak to him anyway; what if that bitch Debbie answers? _'Just thought I'd let him know.'

'Who is it?'

Like I said, an old mate. You don't know him. Used to work with me over at Sun Hill.'

'When was that, then?' Her voice had softened to mere curiosity.

'Before I got to MIT. East London, it was. Five or six years I was there.' Remotely, he realised that he'd never discussed the past with Liz, talked about anything before he'd done prior to meeting her. His history, his family, was a closed book to the woman he was marrying and perhaps it was better that way. _She couldn't love me if she knew all that, could she. No-one could._

'You inviting whatever his name is, then?'

'Jack? Yeah…Dunno if he'll want to come, though.' _How'd he feel about it? How could he feel?_

He turned back to his letter, trying to explain to the man he still loved that he was marrying someone else in a few months time. _I'm sorry, but you've got Debbie, so you'll be alright, and I guess that you'd want me to be happy and this is the closest that I'm going to get._

'It'd be nice if he did come. Who else you inviting?'

'It's ages away, Liz. No need to start organising it all yet.'

'There is. I need to know who you want to come.'

'Jack. Couple of other lads from Sun Hill.' _Smithy, Ken, that lot if it can't be Don and Kate there. _'Dunc and Eva from MIT. There's a few blokes from my team…other teams I've been in; they'll come for the piss up if not the service. Just to say 'I told you so' or something.'

'What about family?'

'I haven't got any family.' His voice was nearly a whisper. _Nearest I've got is Jack and I'm sure he won't come._

'What, Mum, Dad? Must have someone.'

'Dead, walked out.' _Wish he was dead. _'No sisters or the like. Nothing - I ain't got a family. Let me finish this, would ya?'

She nodded and walked away. Michael followed her with his eyes, aware despite his doubts that that she was beautiful and glamorous in a way that none of his previous partners had ever been.

"Jack, I hope you're alright. I really mean that, and I'm sorry I haven't been in touch with you, I'm sorry it's been so difficult but I guess I only would have upset Debbie more and I didn't want to make things worse for you. Are you still seeing her?

"Anyway this is sort of an invitation. Liz and me are getting married in a bit, 3rd of May. I'd like you to be my best man stand up with me and all that." _Always thought it was meant to be the bride that sleeps with the best man, not the other away around. _"There isn't anyone else I can really ask only if there was, I'd still like you to be there.

"Funny thinking you don't know Liz. I met her here at NCS she's a sergeant like me, quite pretty. Plenty of family money as well - think you'd like her. I'm okay spending my life with her I guess.

"Please answer me, Jack. Sure you've still got my mobile number or Smithy has. I want to hear you talking remember what it used to be like. I can't remember your voice now. Everything else is fine but I can't remember what it sounded like when you said 'I love you' and I wish I could because noone else has ever said that to me even Liz. She isn't you it isn't enough but I'll be okay with her. Will be."

He glanced back over what he'd written, aware he'd revealed too much. _Was never worth trying to keep secrets from you, was it? Don't think that I ever actually managed it. _He balled the paper up, threw it away_. Seeing as I haven't spoken to him in ages, I probably should not bother asking him anyway. But then, Smithy, I haven't seen him in just as long and I want him there…but he'd tell Jack, wouldn't he? Best not to bother, just go on my own. Forget about them._

Liz breezed in late that night, minutes after he'd got back from training and was trying to summon the energy to wash the caked mud from his legs and face.

'Hiya, Mickey. Taken up mud-wrestling or something as a hobby?'

'Nope. Pitch turned into an absolute bog. Not seen anything quite that bad since schoolboys' league.' The adrenalin still surging through his blood made him grin; it made everything seem brighter and despite the burning in his calves and lungs, it was a good feeling, almost like being in love.

'I wish you'd quit playing.'

'Why?'

'It's dangerous. And you're -'

He cut across her, furious. 'I only ever got one bad injury; that was years back. Bastard broke my ankle for me. I'm not giving it up, Liz.' _Because I had to give it up once, that and going to gigs and everything else, and now I'm getting it back, I'm never going to lose any of it again._

'But I never get to see you. You're never here.'

'Cos I don't live here, Liz. I'll come around whenever I want, but if I'm doing something, going out or whatever, then I won't change it, okay? I've got a life to fit in, you know.'

'Why don't you move in, then?'

'No.' He spat the word out without considering it. 'I don't want to move in.'

'Why not?' The injured tone of voice made him feel guilty. 'We're getting married in eight, nine weeks; you might as well just move in now. It'll be a lot easier for trying to arrange everything, and I might get to see something of you.'

'Nope.' He attempted to smile at her, make a joke of it. 'If it's all the same, I'll make the most of my last weeks of not having the bathroom full of makeup.' _Least that was never a problem with Jack. And it's nothing to do with that, really, is it? What if I'm sleeping with her, and I have another flashback; she'd know. Marriage is meant to be about sharing everything, and she doesn't even know that I was …was raped._ He couldn't help his almost physical revulsion at the word.

'You okay?' The irritability suddenly left her voice; he was aware of the softening of her face. 'You've gone white.'

'No…no, I'm fine. Look, let me go shower, then we'll go out for a drink, right?'

Liz stared hard at him, then shrugged. 'If you're okay.'

He got up unsteadily and walked towards the showers, steeling himself to stop and kiss her. Liz's teeth were rough, dragging against his lips and old memories, both painful and wonderful. For a long moment, the wonderful memories were the stronger, but the scalding water he had to use to get the pitch mud from his face and arms - even upper legs, where it had soaked through his shorts - swung his thoughts back to the weeks he wanted so badly to forget.

_That's the nearest I ever came to cutting myself, those first few days, when I was doing this. If you call washing yourself so much that you bleed cutting yourself, I guess I did. Jack didn't say anything, about all the blood, but he must have seen it…But it helped, all that, made me feel cleaner, not like now when I'm tangled up with some woman who wants to marry me and all I can think about is Jack. It's just so wrong, so bloody wrong, and I can't do anything about it…_

There was a razor, one of Liz's, on the shelf.


	48. Don't tell him, Smithy

The unread email alert on Smithy's new laptop was tempting. He'd only brought it into the station because he'd picked it up from the shop on the way to work, and it was too valuable to leave in the car even in Sun Hill's carpark; only set it up because it was a slow, wet, day and the possibilities of playing games or surfing the net were infinitely more tempting than checking through the mounds of paperwork. He managed to restrain his curiosity about who was using his personal account - one that had been almost unused since Kerry's death - until he'd checked through Tony Stamp's forms. The next lot were Reg's and that was too much to face.

The one email that wasn't junk was from Mickey; he recognised the address from the days when he and Mickey had spent ages sending each other filthy jokes or dodgy pictures. Smithy found his breath catching as he waited for it to open. It had been so long since he'd heard from Mickey - Michael - that he'd almost convinced himself that he wouldn't speak to his one time friend again.

"Smithy, hope you're okay and that you aint changed address. You still working over there? This is an invite I'm getting married, 3rd of May over at Dagenham Church. I'd like you to be there. Her names Liz, she's a sergeant here at NCS, she's very pretty. Dont worry, its not going to be very formal. Bring Kerry with you if you want, I'd love to see her again."

_Oh, shit, Mickey, you don't know about that. No-one thought to let you know. I had problems but I guess I should have let you know - maybe you would have come over or something._

"I know you know bout me and Jack, and I hope you wont tell him, because its not the sort of thing that he needs to know about. Please, Smithy I'm asking you as a mate to come along and not to tell him; I can't bear him knowing, he'll be happier if he doesn't know. He knows sort of where I am if he ever wants to get in touch with me or anything and he decided that he didn't want to so this is the best way I think.

"PS What the hell happened with your Hammers last Saturday? The mob I'm playing with now could have stuffed them. Could have done it on my own actually."

Smithy logged off immediately, not interested now in anything he could possibly find on the net, and pillowed his head on his arms, trying to come to terms with the news. He remembered seeing Michael kissing Jack when the older man had been in hospital; the looks on both their faces - one of the deepest, most innocent displays of love that he could remember seeing. Meadows, standing there just after they'd arrested Delaney, holding Mickey close against him and defying anyone else to comment on it. Mickey at Sun Hill, always linked with Meadows in the minds of the relief. They'd been two sides of the same coin, a unit even before they'd been lovers. He couldn't image how either of them could forge a life without that, or that either of them would be willing to even try.

He knew that he ought to feel glad for Mickey but all he could feel was sadness for Meadows and the loss of the love they'd so plainly shared. Mickey had given up on something that Smithy longed to regain; he could admit, to himself, that he was jealous as well as hurting.

Smithy met Meadows for a drink late that night; something that had become almost routine recently. It had started in the run-up to Christmas, when they'd both been missing Kerry and Mickey with an intentness that hurt. The company and understanding hadn't helped, but...they pretended it did, that something might make a difference to how they felt because neither of them could live with the truth of it.

Tonight, in the January chill of a Friday night, the Dog and Gun was so packed that Smithy couldn't have made the DCI hear about the wedding even if he'd wanted to. He wasn't sure if he did or not, whether Mickey was right that it was better for Jack not to know. For now, he was trusting to Mickey's judgement, as he'd known Meadows better and for longer.

'You alright, Dale?' Meadows used his given name sometimes, either when he thought something was seriously wrong or he was trying to wind him up. Smithy knew what it was for tonight; knew that the DCI had always been shrewd enough to be able to second guess Mickey when he was trying to conceal anything.

'Yeah, fine…You try getting the relief to go out and patrol in this weather - I'm up to here in excuses at the moment. And every one's worse than the previous one. Been a bloody hard day. And the paperwork...' He lied easily, if regretfully, to his friend. 'No more than that. There's nothing else wrong.'

Meadows looked at him sceptically but accepted it. _I wonder if you learnt that off of Mickey or if he learnt it off of you, trying to lie to me like that. Both of you, just the same look in your eyes when you're doing it, and neither of you any good, and I'm sorry that you think you have to. Whatever it is, you could tell me. Except that I forced Mickey to tell me what he didn't want me to know, and he never forgave me, so I wouldn't do that to anyone else, ever. Whatever I find out, it wouldn't be worth what I have to do to get it. _

Smithy stared out through the window, losing himself in the darkness. To choose between Mickey's friendship and Jack's...how could he make that decision for both of them? No, he'd have to do what Mickey had requested and keep quiet, hope that he told Meadows eventually and freely.

'You sure, Smithy?'

'Yeah. Everything's fine.'


	49. Jack isn't bent

'DS Webb, can I see you in my office? And DS Garrett as well, please.' Bryce shouted over to them across the room.

'What've I done now?' Michael growled, sotto voice, and was met by the easy laughter of his colleagues. They were his mates now, well able to tease him.

'Nothing, DS Webb,' Bryce responded quickly to his comment, and the strict formality with the DCI reminded him vividly of Meadows and how it had been before. 'Come in, sit down, both of you.'

He waited until they were both settled and the door shut. 'This is based on information I've only recently received; the possibility of corruption amongst some high-ranking CID officers at Sun Hill station.'

_No, not again. _He couldn't physically breath for a moment. The memory of all the damage that Beech had caused was too clear, even five years on. Eventually, he choked out a few hoarse words. ' Not Jack Meadows, sir. Not the DCI there.'

Bryce regarded him steadily for a while. 'I know that you spent several years at Sun Hill, Michael; that's why I asked for you on this one. They'll trust you, be more willing to open up, but I don't want you trusting any of them. Not even Meadows.'

'Jack isn't bent…I'd stake everything on him not being involved in it…Sir.' He could feel his face burning; was very aware of the curious looks that Bryce and Liz were giving him, but he was compelled to defend Meadows.

'Why'd you have so much faith in him?'

_Because when you've lived with someone for a year, slept with them, been so close to them that you know everything about them, then you know what they're doing and whether they've got any spare cash floating around the place that they shouldn't have. _'Cos I was there for a long while, and I frequently worked closely with DCI Meadows.' _Well, that's one way of putting what we did. _'In all that time, I never had any reason to doubt his honesty or anything. Me and him were there through another similar problem; he was so totally against it that I can't image he's involved.'

_Unless he was covering up for someone, maybe; he would have done that for me, I guess. _Unwillingly, he caught Bryce's eye. 'Meadows isn't like that. And he used to work here, years back…surely you've got records or maybe people here that worked with him.' That hadn't occurred to him before.

'What about the others there, then? Okaro, DI Manson, DI Onsloe? Any of the sergeants?'

Michael shrugged. 'Don't know. Onsloe wasn't on my shift, I hardly knew the guy. I think most of the sergeants I knew aren't there anymore, and I never really had much to do with Okaro.'

'Manson?'

'Didn't know him at all; he arrived after I'd gone but…he never really got on with the DCI. I know that - somebody told me.'

Both of them caught the change in his voice but it was Bryce that responded first. 'Is it a problem then, that Manson didn't get on with Meadows?'

'Only because, well…Jack, he don't normally take against people like that.' _I don't think he ever has done, actually, except for maybe Ray or Delaney, and I guess that he had cause for that._

'Jack being DCI Meadows?'

'Yeah. Look, me an' the DCI were mates. Good mates.'

Bryce smiled, the expression flickering over his face in an instant. 'I'm glad you were so close to someone at Sun Hill - they shouldn't be surprised to see you back there for a while.'

Michael stood so abruptly that he knocked the chair over; Liz, alarmed at his reaction, sprang to her feet as well. 'Sir…guv…you want me to go back to Sun Hill? Back to the CID there, to investigate this?' _Walk up those stairs, be in the office…Smithy on the desk, Jack there watching us…I can't go back to that and I want it so much…_

'Is that a problem? You just said you hardly know anyone there now, and if you're so close to the DCI, that'll be alright. Say you're in the area or something. He'll believe that, won't he?'

'Yeah…No…It'll be alright.' _The problem with the DCI is that I left and he started screwing Debbie and I don't ever want to see him again, ever, because I don't know what I do think about him and it all hurts too much. _'Look, I'll do it if you want.'

'Good. Liz can work with you; you've made a good pair in the past.'

_She can meet Jack. _'Yes, sir.' _I don't think that I could stand to see the two of them together or have him at the wedding. Couldn't do that, not and walk away from him without looking back. _'Do the best we can, Sir.'

Bryce dismissed them shortly after; Liz went off to take a statement from someone - Michael only half-heard the details she related, and he went to sit, alone, in the sergeants' office.

_I should phone Jack, warn him, tall him what's going on. He ought to know. _His finger hovered the numbers on the phone, the realisation that he still knew Jack's number by heart shocking him. _If I tell him, Bryce'll kill me. Oh, God, Jack…You need to know, you have to know because maybe you can stop it but I can't tell you. I'm going to have to go in and rip everything apart in front of you and you don't know it's going to happen. I'm so sorry, Jack…_

Heavy hearted, he gathered up what he'd need for the week Bryce expected them to be at Sun Hill. A suit for the wedding rehearsal - Liz had explained to him that he was attending. Shirts with long sleeves that would hide the scars across his arms, a few months old now but still vivid slashes of thickened skin. The last thing he stuffed into the kit bag was the Celtic ring Meadows had given him, so long ago now. He hadn't worn since Liz had presented him with a thick gold engagement band, but the familiarity of it was comforting. 'Be lucky, Jack. Let this all be a mistake, be nothing that can hurt you or make things worse than they are now.'


	50. Mickey?

Heart thumping so hard that he couldn't get his breath properly, Michael walked back into Sun Hill. Bryce, as the most senior of the three, dealt with administration at the front desk, while he walked up to CID, and using the key that he hadn't touched for over a year, let himself into Meadows' office.

Meadows smiled sleepily as he lay in bed, half conscious and half lost in the remains of his last dream. Him and Mickey had been walking together, somewhere, not touching or even looking at each other but totally aware of each other's presence. He'd been able to feel the stubble on Mickey's face, the muscles of his legs and chest moving under bare hands. The younger man walking next to him had been beautiful, unharmed and laughing.

Slowly, he realised that it was a dream and he made a deliberate effort to forget it as he drove to Sun Hill. He managed it until he reached the station and saw a strange car parked in the CID bays. Strange but almost familiar - rusty but bright paintwork, angled across two spaces -_the sort of thing that he used to salvage off the scrap heap. And he used to park like that all the time; I remember him and Danny having a row over it, because he always ended up nicking Danny's spot as well._

He walked hesitatingly over to the car, recalling one wet day when he'd come running over to Mickey's car, trying to catch him before he left and tell him of the changes in the case he'd just been working on. The rain had been pounding; it had made sense for Meadows to get in and sit beside by him, and the water had obscured the windows so much that no-one could see in. Mickey had got his orders for the case; they'd spent the rest of the deluge kissing.

There was women's makeup laying over the dashboard in the car. He laughed out loud, making a joke of his assumptions and vague hopes as he walked into the station; stopped instantly as he became aware of the tension in the building.

'What's happening?'

Gina Gold gave him a blank look. 'No idea, guv. Something in CID but no more than that. Got everyone on edge.'

''Kay.' He nodded and went upstairs, passing a glamorous blonde woman that he didn't know. She moved with such assurance that he guessed she'd been speaking with Okaro; certainly, he envied the man who had given her the diamond engagement ring that she was flaunting.

_Randy old fool, she's spoken for and you were dreaming about Mickey this morning. Leave it alone._ He walked through the empty general office and over to his own. The door was slightly ajar, as if Manson or Okaro - the only ones that had keys - had been in there looking for something.

He nudged the door open and went in. Mickey Webb was leaning casually against his desk.

'Hiya, guv.' His accent rhymed it with 'love'.

'Mickey?' He shut the door and went over to Mickey, seeing that he was wearing a suit and tie, that the marks of pain and fear were still present on his face. _In 14 months, he should have changed more than that. I know I have._

'Michael, guv. Not Mickey anymore.'

'It's…it's good to see you again. Missed you.'

'Yeah, well, guv…Things happen.' He didn't look up from scuffing his feet against the carpet.

'Don't have to call me 'guv'. Whatever's going on, you never have to do that. Not you.' _There's a lot of things you could call me, most of which I'd deserve, but I never want you to grovel to me like that._

'Jack.' Michael said his name cautiously, glancing up at Meadows so that the older man could see the haunted look in his eyes.

'That sounds better.' Meadows couldn't help himself; he took two steps to stand by his former partner and put his arms around Mickey's shoulders as if none of the recent past had happened.

Michael sighed, so hard that his breath ruffled the DCI's hair. _Don't Jack, please not this again…Liz'll kill me. _'Jack,' hating himself, he heard the affection in his voice, 'this is about work.'

'Oh.' _Maybe I should have guessed; he wouldn't have come back for anything minor like seeing me again, would he? _Regretfully, Meadows stepped back from the embrace and sat down behind his desk. 'You going to sit down?'

'Nah. This is fine here. Right, Jack, listen…if Bryce finds me here talking to you before he's given me permission, then he's going to kill me. Gonna have to be quick.'

_Nothing changes. _ Meadows shifted uncomfortably, trying to get that thought out of his mind. 'Who's Bryce? Why aren't you allowed to talk to me? What is going on, Mickey?'

'I'm at the NCS now. A DS. Maybe you know that.' The quizzical look he gave the DCI showed that he remembered the message Meadows had once left him.

'Yes, I know.' _I was proud of you, Blue Eyes. Am proud of you._

Michael didn't question how he'd known. 'Bryce is my DCI. Liz Garrett is my partner, also a DS.' _Can't say I didn't tell him. '_We're investigating an allegation about corruption at Sun Hill. Bryce didn't want me speaking to you in case I tipped you off.'

_No. _Meadows almost shouted his denial. 'Not again, Mick. Not again.'

'I told Bryce it wasn't you. Wouldn't be. He's already mad at me about that; for God's sake, don't tell him I've been here.'

_You trust me enough for that, still. _'Why'd you come to tell me, then?' _All you know, I'd take this straight to Manson or Okaro, and then you'd be screwed._

Michael gave him a disbelieving stare. 'Because I couldn't not tell you, Jack. After everything you've done for me…getting me the job at MIT an' all…Owed it to ya. Even now.'

'Thanks.' That meant as much to Meadows as hearing him say 'I love you' after their first night. 'But you didn't…'

'Whatever.' He managed a grin, suddenly looking much younger. 'Anyway, have you had any indication of anything going on here? Off the record, like. I gotta know, for Bryce.'

'Mick…what with the fire and Ken dying and all that, I wouldn't have noticed a diamond smuggling ring…If I could help, I would. Promise.'

'I know you would, Jack. Could you, I dunno, tell me anything else? Who's here at the moment, that sort of thing.'

_I know what're you're asking, you're not that subtle. _'There's only a few here that know what happened. Me, Sam, Phil…not many of us left and we won't say anything. Nor will Smithy.'

'Not Debbie McAllister?'

Both men were aware of the implications of that inquiry, why Mickey had asked about her rather than anyone else. 'She left, a long while back. You remember when I was ill and you came to see me? She didn't like you being around, and when she found out I was with you before, she took exception. Walked out.'

'Sorry.' _So all that time I was blaming her and I could have gone back to you anytime, before I ever met Liz, and now it's all too late._

'No.' Meadows smiled sadly. 'It wasn't your fault.'

Michael tossed his head back, a habit he'd picked up to get his long hair out of his eyes and hadn't stopped doing. 'Anyway, this is everything I know, Jack. Everything they've told me…'

Aware that he'd just sacrificed his position at the NCS and sure that it was right, he gave Meadows all the information he had. _I wasn't going to, I know better than that, but I can't be here with him and not tell him…no job's worth doing that to him._


	51. Chapter 51

'Michael, what you been doing?' Bryce spoke in a low growl, not wanting to be overheard by anyone else.

'Nothing, guv. Just going around, like. Talking to everyone who was here when I was. More of 'em still here than I thought. Surprising really. People like DS Hunter; never thought that he would have stayed here for so long.'

Bryce caught the slight hesitation in his voice. 'You didn't give anything away, did you?'

'Jack - he wanted to know why I was here. Was pressing for details.' _And I told him everything that you've ever told me about this case and a bit more that I worked out myself, so I dare say he knows more than you about it all now. Probably the last case I'll ever work on for now, but it's worth it._

'What did you tell him?'

'Nothing.' _Everything except that I'm getting married in a fortnight, because the moment I saw him, I just wanted to, to…_He stopped that train of thought but it had given him an idea even as it disgusted him, remembering his beliefs about only loving one person at a time. 'We got talking, chatting 'bout when I was here. Telling him about me and Liz getting married. That sort of stuff. Said I was on NCS work, let him think I'd been in the area and just come visiting. He trusts what I tell him.'

Bryce glanced shrewdly at him. 'Just because he's your mate, that's no reason to trust him. If he trusts you, great, it'll make everything easier, but don't trust him, else he'll use it against you. Unlikely that something like this could be going on in such a small department and the DCI wouldn't know anything about it.'

_But I do trust him. _The words were a howl of silent desperation. _I have to trust him. There's no-one else in my life that I can trust, never to hurt me or trick me, let me down. _'Yes, guv. I know that.'

'Are you okay, Michael?'

'Yes, guv.' He shrugged despondently.

'I know it might be a bit odd, coming back here, but it's useful having someone who knows the patch. I wouldn't have wanted to have anyone else here with me…it's for the best.'

'Yeah, guv, I guess it is.' _It's for something…Driving me mad, getting me back together with Jack or running abroad somewhere…Something'll have to happen because of this, and I doubt I'll like it very much…_

He left it as late as he could before slipping away to meet Liz in one of the pubs that had not been a CID hangout in his time. _Considering there's queues in there like Glastonbury or somewhere, and they charge about the same amount, I'm only surprised that anyone comes here. But at least I won't have to risk coming across Jack or someone like Smithy…Guess I should have gone and visited him today… Tomorrow _

_maybe, see if he ever got that email._

Liz was waiting for him, having already ordered their dinner, and nursing a bottle of white wine that he'd often wanted to try but been unable to afford. Vaguely, he was aware that she was wearing a diamond ring in addition to her engagement one, and he knew that was expensive as well. _Jesus, if bloody Phil Hunter or someone was walking round like that, I'd be wondering where all the money came from. No-one at Sun Hill's doing that, though, are they?_

'Hiya.'

'Liz.' He forced a smile. _Didn't have to do that for Jack, never had to act for him. We were just how we were, and that was enough. '_What you been doing?'

'Floating, mainly. Getting to know people at Sun Hill. Know thine enemy, that kind of thing.'

'Were you? I mean, I know Bryce was around harassing Okaro, and I was talking to Jack most of the time but I never saw you around.'

'Thought you were out and about.' She looked slightly disturbed; he couldn't understand why. 'But I was around there all day.'

'Must be going blind then.' Michael laughed hollowly, then turned his attention to the elaborate meal she'd ordered for him. It wasn't what he would have chosen, but it was food and he was hungry. And if he was concentrating on bolting down the duck with orange sauce, he didn't have to think about a few suspicions, too faint really to be called that, which he didn't want to consider too closely.

It was kicking-out time before Michael left; he'd booked into a place a few streets up from where Meadows still lived, and he couldn't face driving back there. Liz seemed to sense his unease, but she refused to come back with him, even though that was the first time he'd ever invited her back. He had to make the journey alone.

Jack's flat - the flat that he'd lived in - called to him as he drove up to it in the pitch black. He'd been happy there, perhaps happier than he'd ever been. It was the only place he'd ever lived with any of his lovers, and he suspected that Meadows would have let him go back there tonight. He suspected, in fact, that he could have done or got just about anything if he'd had the nerve - the freedom - to knock and go back home tonight.

But he couldn't… 'Goodbye' he whispered, and he wasn't sure whether he meant it to Jack, or his past, or if he'd just drunk too much. Perhaps it was the near telepathy he'd felt with the DCI a few times, but the older man switched a light on and moved to the window so that he could look down into the rain darkened street. Their eyes met for a moment, then Michael waved acknowledgement and drove off. He felt Meadows' eyes boring into his back down the entire length of the road, and it felt like splitting from him all over again, and he'd never wanted to do that in the first place.


	52. I've changed in other ways

Meadows almost wanted to fall ill that night so he wouldn't have to face Bryce and his team - face Mickey- the next morning. It was an effort to drive in; more of an effort not to responded to Mickey's half whispered 'Hiya, Jack' with an enquiry about why he hadn't come in the previous night. He'd lain awake for hours after Mickey had driven away, expecting him to turn back and come home.

'Morning, Jack.' _No, not again…_Cold fear sweat sprang out instantly on his face, stinging his eyes. _Meant to be third time lucky, isn't it, so really there shouldn't be a third time. Lost my rank, lost my department - what've I got to lose this time round? _Once, the answer would have been Mickey, but he was rational enough to know that he'd already lost the DC - DS- regardless of the conversation they'd had yesterday.

'Good morning, Jack.' Okaro repeated his greeting with an edge to his voice.

'Sir.'

'Want you in my office now, Jack. DCI Bryce and DS Liz Garrett from the NCS are there. And Mickey Webb.'

Meadows bit his lip so hard that he tasted blood as he walked into the small room. He couldn't help a brief shudder as the door slammed behind him - this might be a different room but for him, the superintendent's office would be forever linked with Chandler's suicide and wondering if Mickey had been the target for the bullet.

Bryce and Liz were seated behind the desk; Meadows and Okaro sat as well, facing them. Mickey was standing uneasily a way behind them, shifting his weight. Meadows caught his eye and the DS mouthed 'Sorry' before glancing down.

Later, Meadows would realise how little attention he paid over those few days. He remembered walking into the house and seeing Manson standing over the body, arresting his DI, but not quite how he'd decided to focus on him. Perhaps because Mickey had suspected him, and he'd followed his lover blindly.

And then, after that, nothing until the next evening, when he'd all but accused Mickey of being bent and the sergeant had stared back at him hate-filled eyes. His shouted question 'how do you think that makes me feel?' was still ringing in his mind, almost as if they'd been the only words he'd ever heard from Mickey. That heartbroken, angry question over-rode the memories of 'love you' and singing along to the radio as if none of it had ever been.

'How do you think that makes me feel?' _Mickey, I can't imagine how you feel, not this time, but I'm sick that I ever, ever thought you could be bent. Never really did, did I? No, not after you tipped me off like that. _He tried to deny it to himself in the hope that Mickey would believe him, but it was true that somehow, however slightly, he'd suspected the DS of being corrupt. Of being able to kill someone.

He blinked slowly, looked up to see Mickey still opposite him. Arms folded across his chest, head flung back and up, the younger man looked as fit and strong as Meadows remembered him, yet his eyes were shadowed and very, very tired.

'You thought I was bent, didn't you?' Michael hissed the words at Meadows.

'No.'

'Yes, you did. You thought I was like Beech? No different to what that bastard was like, just out for what I could get. Don't you know me any better than that?'

'I'm sorry.'

'Why'd you think that? Why?' He shouted the last word, plunging to his feet.

'Because - because you'd changed, Mickey. Saw you when you got here, and it was like I hardly knew you. You're a different person - you could be doing anything. I wouldn't know.'

'Why shouldn't I change? It's been more than a year. Twelve - fourteen - months whatever.' His voice hadn't softened. 'I 'ad to get though Delaney's trial - alone. You having a heart attack; thought you were gonna die. Getting my exams, moving…that sorta thing changes people. And you thought I'd changed so much that I'd do that to someone.'

'I said I was sorry.'_ And I am, God, Mick, I am but I guess there's always something that you can't apologise for, when you've gone too far. Words can't make it any better for you, I suppose._

'Y-you changed as well, but I didn't change my whole opinion of you cos of it.'_ Did I? _'I trusted you, put my neck on the line to tip you off, and you - you thought I was capable of killing someone.'

There was silence in the office which suddenly seemed far too small, until Michael had got his breath back. When he next spoke, it was a harsh, guttural whisper.

'I never thought I could kill anyone. Right now, after what you just said - I reckon I could kill you.' It was a lie; he loved Jack too much for that, yet it expressed how betrayed he felt, something that Meadows hadn't fully realised.

Instinctively, he knew what Michael was planning to do but he made no move to prevent. The force of the blow knocked his head back as blood sprang from his lips; the pain felt like absolution for what he'd done to his ex-lover.

Michael stared at him, eyes frantic with horror at what he'd just done, and with a strange righteousness which failed to disguise his anger and hurt. He stood frozen, looking down at Meadows for a long time before turning on the spot and heading towards the door.

'I changed in another way, as well, Jack.' He spat the words back over his shoulder. 'I got engaged. I'm getting married to Liz and you've just got yourself struck off the guest list. I was gonna ask you to be there to see me… but I don't ever want to see you again.'

Blood dripped down Meadows' face, mingled with the tears he tried to choke back as he listened to Michael's heavy footsteps outside the door. _I've lost him again; lost him forever. He couldn't have made it any plainer if he tried, and he's got every right to be like that…I deserved that; he should have gone further after what I said to him, even though I didn't mean it…And now I've lost him, and I'm never going to see him again._


	53. Don't lie to me, Liz

Michael hurried from Sun Hill, driving back to Liz's rooms as fast as he dared. Today, he hardly glanced at the familiar sight of his old place but kept driving, faster than he'd ever done since he'd been in uniform and running the patrol car as hard as he could without getting cautioned for it, but it wasn't for the sheer thrill of speed now. _That's it now. No going back, not ever. Bryce'll have to get some other mug to go there and sort it all out; I'm finished with it. Done with. I'm marrying her and Jack fucking Meadows can't do anything about it. I'm getting married in a fortnight…_ The thought amazed him, even though he accepted that he would have to give up so much that he valued at the moment.

'Hello, Liz? Liz, I'm back!' He shouted his greeting from the front door.

Her reply was muffled; Michael thought she was asking who it was but her voice sounded strange.

'Liz, are you alright up there? Anything wrong?'

'Michael, that you?'

'Yeah.' _Like who else does she think it'd be, banging on the door at this time of night?_

'Don't - don't come up for a minute.' Her voice was very shrill.

'Why not?'

'Because…because…something for the wedding. It's a surprise. Don't want you to see it just yet.'

He knew she was lying; knew it with the same certainty that he'd once known Delaney was evil and that Jack had loved - still loved - him. It hurt. _What is she doing? God, Liz, please don't lie to me. Not now, not so close to it all._

Michael walked to the foot of the stairs, thought seriously about ignoring her and going up anyway. _All that bloody cash she's been flashing, and this, and those calls - there's always bloody fools getting the wrong number, isn't there? But she wouldn't do that, would she? Not her, not Liz…No, it must be something for the wedding, like she said. The dress, or whatever else women always go on about before they get married. Something for the honeymoon, maybe, planning what we'll do when we get there. _

Later, he had to admit that he'd worked it all out in that split second; that Manson, however much the DCI hated him, was innocent, and Liz, the beautiful blonde girl who laughed at his jokes and who he was marrying, was corrupt. Known and done nothing, because he was tired and hurting, because it was only Jack or Smithy that he could rely on. _And I spent the past two hours yelling at Jack - God forgive me, I hit him - and I haven't got any idea where Smithy's got to. What am I meant to do? None of the others there are ever going to believe me, and I wouldn't really want them knowing anyway. _

It was much later when Liz said he could come up; even later when he gave up trying to find out exactly what she'd been doing all day. The room felt too small; he leant against the door to stand and talk to her, but he could still feel the frosty cold of her anger.

'Michael?'

'Hmm?' The affection in her voice surprised him; for a moment, he was tempted, and then he remembered what she'd just done; realised that it was the same stunt he'd pulled with Meadows occasionally, when the DCI had been angry at him.

'You coming to bed?'

The thought of that, after how she had betrayed him, maddened him. _How can you marry someone if you know they've broken the law? If you know they think you're so bloody useless that you won't notice what they're up to? How could anyone have sex with someone like that?_

'You afraid of me or something, Mister Blue Eyes? Told you, it was just some stuff for the wedding, that's all. Sorting out the something old, new, borrowed…just got to get the something blue, apart from your eyes.' Her smile was feral, enticing. 'Only a few days, and you'll run out of excuses. Rehearsal two days time…No, must be tomorrow by now.'

_Shit. _He'd genuinely forgotten that, even though he'd caught himself looking forward to it yesterday. 'I know that, Liz.' The weariness in his voice wasn't faked; the anticipation was. It was dark and close in the bedroom; the walls were too close and the ceiling too low - it reminded Michael of a prison cell and that reminded him of Manson.

Once, yesterday, he'd gone to get the DI out from the cells so that Bryce could interview him. Manson had been sprawled on his bunk, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling, so immobile that he could have been dead. Michael had had to drag him to his feet, and he could have only called the expression on that sallow face 'defeat.' Manson had been in a cell like this room, was still there, because of his going to be wife, and because there wasn't anyone he could talk to about it.

'How comes you picked that church anyway?'

'I grew up over there, used to go there a lot. Father Williams there knew me when I was a kid.' _Mum's there…I run there after what happened and Jack come to find me… It's a good place to run to. _'It's a good church. Good people there.' _All except me; they wouldn't be so happy to have me around them if they knew what I'm like outside. _'Night.'

He slipped away from the flat, back to his own digs. The room was icy, the quilt cold to the touch as he lay there with the lights on and his legs drawn up to his chest, trying to decide what he would do about Liz later today. But despite his preoccupation with that, his last waking thought was the memory of Jack slowly raising one hand to touch his jaw after Michael had swung at him. He almost thought that his lover's blood was still on his hand, but when he touched it to check, he wasn't sure if he was awake or dreaming, trapped in a nightmare that had lasted for as long as he could remember.


	54. Will you help me, Jack?

_Has to be Jack. Has to be. Tell him, and if he'll let me get near enough to speak to him, then he'll help me. Maybe he'll go and get Bryce, but at least he can get Manson let out and Liz won't be able to hurt him anymore. _Michael walked leadenly over to Meadows' office; let himself in without knocking because he knew that pause would have given him time to change his mind and struggle on alone.

'Mickey?' The Yorkshire voice was thick with emotion and tiredness; Meadows looked as though he'd slept in the office. Then Michael saw the red in his eyes and realised that the older man probably hadn't slept at all. Blood was crusted in the brown stubble below his mouth - he'd never grown stubble when they'd been together and for a moment, he had to resist the temptation to touch it.

'Yeah, it's me.' Keeping his voice soft, he continued speaking as he pulled the door up and sat down. 'Jack, I'm so sorry, so sorry. Didn't think, but I'm sorry I hurt you. Last night - I was tired…too tired. Outta it. Jus' snapped. I didn't mean it.' _Like Ray; he used to do that, and say that he was tired, so where's that leave me?_

'Mickey…it's okay. No worries.'

'But…I hit you.'

'Maybe…maybe I deserved it. Saying that about you - I was wrong, Mickey. My fault, that was. Not yours.'

'I hurt you.' Michael had to look away. 'Jack…' He reached one hand out to Meadows, sensing that touch would be more reassuring than words, more sincere.

'That your wedding ring?' Meadows held his hand gently, not listening to the string of apologies.

'Engagement ring. Liz got it for me. Twen'y-four caret white gold. She likes me t' wear it.'

'Suits you.' Meadows failed to keep the jealousy from his voice; touching the blonde man, even in a way as platonic as that, was a reminder of what he'd lost. 'When is it?' _Not soon, please not soon._

_Never now, I guess. _'Jack, I've not got any right to ask you this, not after what I did an' said…no right…but…'

'What is it?' Meadows could sense Mickey's reluctance, his embarrassment. 'You want me to be your best man or something?' It was a joking comment, half meant and affectionate, as though he didn't still bear the marks from what Mickey had done to him earlier.

_I did, didn't I? Wrote, asked you to, then chucked it away because I thought it'd be best if I never saw you again. '_That…that would be a sight to see.'

'What's wrong, Mickey?'

He almost insisted that his name was Michael now; knew it would be merely a delaying tactic to avoid talking about Liz. 'Jack…Can't ask you this, really…not now.'

Meadows let go of the DS's hand and moved round to sit on the desk, hoping that the physical proximity would comfort the younger man. 'Is everything alright? Are you okay…something happen to you, did it?'

'Can you help me? Please?' He was clear, too clear, that there was no reason for Meadows to do so, but the DCI nodded silently.

'Look, Manson's innocent. You've got to let him go - he never murdered that bloke. He ain't corrupt or anything, he's as straight as me or you.'

Meadows caught the unintended double meaning and had to laugh; Mickey took a second to realise what he'd said and half-smiled. 'Was that all, Mick? If it's just that and you've got the proof, that's not a problem really.'

'Not all of it. He's not bent - all that stuff bout someone here being bent, Bryce got that wrong. There's no-one here bent. It was all a lie. Manson never did anything.'

'You sure l-Mick?'

'Yeah.'

'Who was it then? What happened to tip them off?'

_This is it, I've got to tell him now, else he'll never believe I didn't know if he finds out later. _'It's…It's Liz. She's been selling them information about the investigations, other bent coppers. The Sun Hill bit was just a blind cos she wanted me and Bryce concentrating on our - your - lot, so's we didn't notice her.'

'Your Liz? Your Liz that you're marrying?' It was a rhetorical question; Meadows knew the answer from the expression on Mickey's face. _Not again, not you. Oh, Mickey, I got Debbie and whatever she was, at least she wasn't corrupt. You didn't know, did you? Hope you didn't, because if you did and you still wanted to marry her, then you've changed too much._

'Yeah. My Liz. Lizzy Garrett.'

'I'm sorry.' An instinctive reply, truly heartfelt and he was surprised at that, because he remembered being jealous of Liz's fellow the first time he'd seen her, jogging down the stairs from CID.

'I'm not marrying her.'

'Didn't think you would. Not now.'

'Knew for sure yesterday, when I went back to hers. She was doing something when I got back, wouldn't let me see it. Lied to me. All this money she's always got, paid for me to go on holiday, the ring. Jack, she got all that money from selling info - she's bent…' His voice was hollow. 'Just knew since last night, Jack. Had to come t' you.'

'You can get proof?' He accepted Mickey's word as good enough, knowing his intuition rarely let him down.

'Can get you proof. Get Bryce, get whoever in to see to it. She's bent, trust me.'

'I always trust you.'

Michael couldn't answer; it was enough that he'd told Meadows and that they could let Manson out. Justice could be done; he didn't have to marry someone he knew he couldn't love.

Meadows sighed. 'You got anything on today?'

'Not today. Got my - my wedding rehearsal at two in the afternoon tomorrow. She - she thinks I'll be there, that's all. Didn't plan anything else 'cept for getting the job done. Thought me an' her'd keep well busy…'

'Go home, today, then. You don't need to see any of this. Me and your boss can sort it all out.'

'She's sharing the place we've got booked. Said yesterday that she'd been out talking to people, but I guess she was there most of the day. Knew I wasn't there. Jack, I'd be better here. If I go there and she wonders what I'm doing, then I'm screwed. We all are.'

'You're not staying here while we investigate your fiancée, Mickey. I know you won't tell her anything, but I don't want you to see it. Go home for the day - you've still got the key, haven't you?'

It took Michael a minute to realise that he meant the flat they had shared. 'Yes, I've got a key.'

'Good.' Meadows stood stiffly, looking so old and weary that Michael felt sorry for him, for having to depend on this man now. He stood as well, went to leave, but Meadows slipped one arm around the sergeant's shoulders.

Michael stepped closer, rested his head against Jack's chest for a moment. It felt like safety, comfort, love, just as it had done before.

'Mickey, it'll be okay. I promise. I'll make sure you're okay.'

They stood like that, leaning into each other, both busy with their own thoughts, for a while longer.


	55. Chapter 55

It was the same but different. Michael looked around the flat as he waited for the DCI to arrive, painfully aware of his status as visitor. The walls were bare - expected really, because he'd taken his rock posters and football photos with him - the old battered sofa must have disintegrated and been chucked out but everything else was the same. He suspected that if he walked back into the bedroom, he'd find the same bed, same half empty set of drawers as furniture, same mess of dirty gear and CDs scattered on the floor. He'd changed, not the flat.

'Evening, Mickey.' The DCI slipped in just after ten that evening, while Michael was watching the news, letting other disasters drown out his own.

'Jack. What happened?'

The Dalesman's face said it all but he explained anyway. 'I spoke to Bryce, told him what you thought. Turned out that he'd been having a few doubts about her as well, so me and him, we spent the day on it. Got your proof.'

'Oh.' _I wanted to be wrong for once. If I wasn't so fucking clever, so well trained, then I wouldn't have noticed and that would have been alright. Unless I'd found out later, after I'd got with her…Would have been right in the shit then, wouldn't I?_

'Sorry.'

'I's 'kay, Jack.'

'She was your fiancée.' _It's not okay, is it? You trusted her, I guess you love her, and this happened. _'I'm sorry. Sorry that it had to be like this.'

'No worse than, than what I did to you yes'erday.'

'That looked a lot worse than it was. Used to get more than that playing cricket…You alright, are you?'

'Yeah.' _No, and I'm sure that you know that as well as I do._

Meadows ignored the lie, understanding the reason for it. 'Eat these.' He threw a wrapped portion of chips over to Mickey, sat in silence to watch him eat. The familiarity of it after so long was surprising. _Might have been last week that it was like this all the time, him sitting just opposite me and settling down for the night._

'What proof, Jack?' Michael looked away, wanting and not wanting to know the answer.

'Trust me, you'll be better off if you don't know what she's been doing and everything. Not just yet.'

'I never thought…Shoulda guessed , long while back…Was practically living wiv her, an' all that money she always had…'

'Bryce doesn't blame you for not noticing. Even he only just realised that there might 

be a problem. I don't blame you.'

_I blame me. _'Jack, coming back to see you, I didn't want it like this. Liz screwed it up for us…I'd best get back now. Cheers for the meal.'

He stood up to leave; Meadows stood as well and rested a hand on Mickey's forearm, restraining him without trying to make it obvious. 'Mick, I don't think you should be with Liz, on your own, tonight. If she senses anything…' _And I want you to stay here tonight anyway, because I've missed you, and there's so much that I want to say to you…I just want you with me, that's all._

'That chair spare then?' Reluctance shaded his voice.

'There's some spare blankets around. I'll get 'em, and…' he changed the subject. 'Tomorrow, you go over to the church like you'd arranged. Meet Liz, we'll get her just after she arrives.'

'Not in the church.' _No way, not that, ever._

'Why?'

'Because…it's not right, not in the church, Jack. If she fights or anything or…not in the church. Please?' He flushed, uneasy with showing his convictions so easily, forgetting that Meadows knew him and wasn't like Liz.

'If that'll make it any better…I'll make sure it's outside. Where you meeting her?' _Why'd I think not using her name would make a difference, like he'd forget who we're talking about?_

'Inside, and we're just going straight through the rehearsal. Me an' her; not having bridesmaids or anything…I just don't want a fight in there.'

'No best man?'

'I would have asked you.' _I did ask you, but I never thought I'd actually have been able to say the words to you like this._

'I would have done it. Look, if you want me there tomorrow, then…I'll come. Once we get out…I'll have Bryce and a few uniform lads up there, nick her afterwards.'

'The closest…the closest I'll ever get to having a fucking wife, isn't it? To being normal…' He looked down. 'Glad you'll be there.'

Neither of them could find anything to say after that, accepting that their presence was enough of a comfort to each other. Meadows excused himself eventually; Michael sat and watched the sunrise, wondering what would happen if he went to Jack's room. Whether he would have been able to sleep with the DCI holding him or if they both would have been awake.

They drove to the church in silence, again with the sense of revisiting what had been familiar. Michael almost enjoyed the journey.

'She's 'ere, Jack.'

'How'd you know?'

'Our car there, and the church door's open.'

'C'mon, then…You'll be alright.' Meadows led the way in, confident enough that he didn't check that Bryce and Smithy were in position. Michael did the introductions briefly, hoping that Liz took the tremor in his voice for nerves.

'Nice to meet you, Jack. Michael talked about you a lot.'

The two CID men made eye contact, Meadows trying to mask his anger. _She's as pretty as I thought she was, and she must be pretty sharp to have got where she did…all that, and she's done this to you…God, Mickey, everything that's gone wrong for you, and you've never really hurt anyone for it, even when you could have done. No right to trick you…_He felt Mickey edge closer to him, seeking support.

Neither of them paid much attention to the walkthrough; they'd attended enough weddings to know the procedure. Michael loathed the forced proximity, the artless smile on her face - the way everything was an act - and it would have been intolerable without Meadows. _He offered to come here with me, after all that, so maybe he isn't acting like me and her are…maybe he's different._

Michael got out first, Meadows staying as close to him as possible without it looking odd. Liz remained behind, as Michael had suspected she would, checking over the finer points of church decoration, and the delay gave him and Meadows time to meet Bryce and Smithy; time for them all to wait and regret. Meadows slipped one arm around Michael's shoulders.

'You want to do the honours, Mick?' He offered, even though he was sure of the answer.

'Can't.' His voice broke; he had to look away from Meadows.

The DCI stepped forward, Smithy edging out to block the path behind her. 'Liz Garrett, I'm arresting you…'

The brief struggle took place in front of him; nothing registered until Smithy had dragged her away, in handcuffs, and Meadows headed back to stand with him. 'We got her, Mick.'

Meadows' satisfaction was evident, but it hurt. He turned sharply away, stumbling as he did so. Swung at the wall, yelped as he broke the skin on his hand, and Meadows could only look hopelessly across at him.

'I'm so sorry, Mickey…I wish it could have been different for you.' _But I got you back, so not that different, perhaps. _


	56. Got what I deserve

Arrested...charged, not bailed, unable to raise bond...The words swirled over Michael's head, as meaningless as if they'd been spoken in Latin. _That's my Liz in there, and I went out with her, and, and...But if she hadn't come up with this, I wouldn't ever have come back here, met Jack again. Wouldn't have been able to._

It was too much, sitting there and waiting with nothing to do. Bryce had been kind enough but unable to help or to let Michael help with anything, and the rest of CID was different. _Just ghosts now. Like Don and Kate, like poor ol' Ken...How close did I come to being one? _He fingered the now healed skin, where there had once been a scar, and wondered whether he would have been able to carry it through. _Probably not, with Jack still alive. Never would have left him, I guess...But if he'd forgotten me, it wouldn't have made any difference to him, would it?_

'Jack?'

The DCI paused in his brisk walk. 'Yes, Mickey?'

'Come for a drink?'

'Not no -' He caught sight of Mickey's face. _You fiancee's just been nicked; I don't suppose that any of this really matters compared to that, does it? _''Kay. Just give me a second, get Manson to deal with this.'

Mickey smiled at him, pathetically grateful for the small favour, so that the DCI could see exactly what this meant to him. He didn't bother about the rest of his team and the curious looks they were giving him and the younger man, nor the fact that Mickey's hand brushed against his as they walked over to the car.

'Where'd you fancy, Mick?'

'Oh, anywhere. Somewhere quiet.' _Somewhere with you._

The first two pubs had too many customers for comfort; although Michael didn't say so, Meadows was aware of him tensing up. _And he shouldn't really be drinking, should he? Not like he's eaten anything since yesterday or whenever. Just wish that it had been me and Debbie like this, not you. You didn't deserve this as well, did you...You stupid bastard, why couldn't you fall for someone who can look after you? _

'Sorry, Jack...I can't, can't go in there...' dread edged his voice, and Meadows didn't even bother stopping the car outside the Dog and Gun. _Is this the same person who used to drag me over to crap rock gigs at Camden and the like, used to actively enjoy being jam-packed next to complete strangers? You've changed, you've changed your name and what you like, everything. Bloody hell, you were sleeping with me and next time I see you, you're engaged...And I can't hate you; it's not changed enough for that because I still want to look after you. Love you._

'That's alright. Somewhere else, or you want to go home?'

_I really, really wish I could be somewhere else..._The song lyric, leant from a recent net download, almost made Michael smile. 'Down by the river? Should be quiet, there.'

Meadows refrained from answering that it almost certainly would be, given that it was February, pitch black at just gone seven and cold with a bitterness that seeped through his heavy jacket. Michael - he hated thinking that name - knew all of that, and still wanted to go there. _Long as he isn't planning to jump off one of the bridges, it's okay. Guess I can suffer it for him. _'C'mon, then. Still want me to drive?'

'Yeah.' It was barely a whisper, devoid of anything except relief. He was glad Meadows was taking control, that he didn't have to do anything except follow and trust the Dalesman to look after him.

Meadows drove as slowly as he could without worrying his mute passenger, trying to prolong the moment. He wasn't arrogant enough to believe - hope - that Michael still loved him; the dull ache in his jawbone was a constant reminder of why not. He'd been the only one that Michael could turn to. _That's all. Just saved him again, nothing more. But he asked me to come with him tonight, didn't he? Wanted to be with me...Maybe...He always told me hundred to one shots come in sometimes._

'This do you?'

'Yeah. Cheers, guv.'

'I said, you don't need to call me that.'

They walked over the damp shingle to the very edge of the Thames. The streetlights gave the lazy river an oily glow; the whole place looked unreal with the full moon reflected down onto the river and the brightly lit buildings on the other bank were deserted. They could have been the only living beings in London.

Michael stood staring down at the dark water, his back half turned to Meadows. _Should have spent tonight going over the rehearsal. Liz telling me about her dress, me wondering what that night would be like...She's alone now. Never go back to her now. Not ever... Might even be able to avoid her at the trial, even. Does that leave me alone, though? Didn't have anyone else but her, so if I'm leaving her... Alone, like I always was._

Meadows broke the silence that had lasted for nearly twenty minutes. 'I'm here, you know. Still here.' _Even if you did try and smash my face in. _'It's okay, you know. Can tell me if you want. Talk to me.'

'How come...why'd you never come looking for me?'

'You said - I thought you wanted to be alone. Thought that I was reminding you of everything...' _Did I get all that wrong, then? Never realised, Mick; God, if I'd known you wanted me, I would have come. I swear it...Debbie, she wouldn't have mattered, Mick, not if you'd asked me._

'And you didn't need me around, did you? You got to DS at MIT, were getting married. What would I have done to all that?'

'Nothing.' Michael heard the waver in his voice; hated it. 'Because if you'd been there, even once...I wouldn't have got engaged. Wouldn't have looked at her if you'd been there. I - I loved you more.' The confession he'd scarcely been able to make to himself came freely in the dark, and it was easy to carry on, to explain what he'd denied.

'You don't know what it's like. Being alone, new place, new job...The trial and everything. I missed you, missed so bad an' she were there, like. Best I could do, no-one else were bothered, were they? Don't want to die alone...she's, she's the best. Best I deserve.'

Finally, his self resolve broke and tears streaked his face. 'Best I deserve, Jack...Got what I'm worth.'

'No!' Meadows surprised himself with the vehemence of his own reply. He moved over and hugged Mickey, let the younger man lean against him. Trying to be there for him, defend him, do everything that he'd failed in since he'd left.

A/N - Nearly finished, people. 59 Chapters, plus 2 one shot sequels. Cookies to all you faithful readers and reviewers!

'You're worth better than that, Mick. You didn't deserve it.' _You're worth everything to me, and I'm sorry, but I'm so glad it happened... _'You're worth more than that, Mickey. Michael.'


	57. Chapter 57

They were still standing together much later. Michael had no tears left to cry over Liz and would have been content to stand like that forever; suspected that Jack would have let him do so.

'If I could do anything...' Meadows stood staring at the ruffled reflection of the moon on the water, still holding Mickey. After Debbie, he was more aware of the total trust that Mickey offered him when they were embracing; it was a complete surrender of freedom to the DCI, and it showed Mickey's courage more vividly than anything else he could think of. _You never got in touch with me, didn't want me at your wedding - and you're so different I though you might be bent but what I told you's just a lie. I wouldn't change anything, because I've got you back even though it hurt you. Maybe that doesn't say much for me, but it's true._

'You would.' _You always would. _It was an agreement, an acceptance that the Dalesman meant what he said, almost an offer of friendship. _Because he didn't let me down. He did what he thought I wanted him to. Was all my fault. '_I know you would, Jack.'

'I've missed you, Mickey.'

'I said no-one that calls me that now. Mickey was the one who got raped, who had to run away. You 'eard what Delaney said when you nicked 'im, didn't you? Michael's different. Stronger. Harder.'

The trembling of his body, pressed close against Meadows, belied his words.

'Mickey was the man who I fell in love with.'

A long pause as Michael pulled away and walked over to the very edge of the river, barely hearing what Meadows said next over the noise of the current.

'Mickey's the man I still love. You'll always be Mickey to me, Blue Eyes.'

He nodded, took a few running steps along the bank and threw the two rings into the Thames. 'She - Liz - she called me Michael.'

'I'll call you Mickey.' Meadows walked down to him; they both sat on the damp shingle, close enough that their shoulders touched. 'Did she know about you?'

'What 'bout me?' Mickey drew his knees up to his chest, hugged them. 'That I got raped, that I helped to kill my superintendent? That - that I love you? No, no and no. Never talked 'bout the past, anything 'fore I got me exams and transfer. Never knew any of it.'

_You never trusted her, did you? How long did you have doubts about her, then? Maybe I don't want to know._

'She was a friend - like Don was - and I never noticed about either of them. What did she think I was?'

'It wasn't your fault, Mickey. No-one realised, did they? Maybe I should have done 

something...I should have...should have...'

'I was scared to come back,' Mickey admitted to the darkness. 'Walking into your office, that was the hardest bloody thing I've ever done...I came back, though.'

'That's in the past. Let's not think about it for now. You're back, I'm here, it'll be alright.'

'I know.' He managed a shaky smile, the expression making him appear younger and vulnerable, beautifully so. 'I missed you, Jack.' _Losing you hurt worse than Liz, than Kate even. _ Finally, he could admit that Meadows meant more to him than he'd ever admitted. _Soulmate..._and he grinned at the implications of that word.

Gently, Meadows slipped one arm around Mickey's shoulders, and the DS leant against him, half grieving, half rejoicing. The DCI shut his eyes, listening to Mickey's breathing and the sounds of the night.

The moon had set by the time they broke their silence. The quiet hours had been time for thinking, for enjoying the company of their former lover; Meadows, at least, was aware that his shift started in a few hours.

'Mickey?'

'Umm?' He raised his head from Jack's shoulders, looked up at him. Meadows was unsure as to whether the younger man had actually been asleep; his eyes were hazed with exhaustion and his earlier tears but still shone a myriad of shades of blue in the streetlights.

'I can't do anything to make this better for you, but...'

_You already have. You saved me. _'But what?'

'If there's anything you want, anything at all that I can do, I will. Can't alter what's she's done but anything else...'

'A transfer...Back to Sun Hill. Work with you.' Talking with you, laughing at you...sleeping with you, even. 'Back home. You want something in exchange?'

Meadows smiled, not having to think about his request. 'You to smile again.' _For you to be around all the time, for everything to be like it was before, like it was after your birthday. _'You to come back home.'

'You could ask me for a lot more than that, Jack. Saved me a few times, you did - woulda done anything for you.'

'You did. You came back, didn't you? You asked me to come down here with you.' He reached over and clasped Mickey's hands, taking a second to register what he saw. 'Didn't you just chuck your rings away?'

'It's your one. That one you gave me, ages back. Always wore it.' _Not that Liz ever approved of it, but that doesn't matter now, because you've got Jack. It's over. This is it, what you've got now, and it's what you always wanted, isn't it? He still loves me... _Embarrassed by his thoughts, he changed the subject. 'Shall we make a move?'

'Yeah.' Meadows kept hold of Mickey's hand as they walked back over the moving stones, towards the car. 'Where'd you want to go?'

'Home.' He caught Jack's eyes, blue fire sparking from blue. 'Go home with you for tonight.'

Meadows started the car up, turned it around. 'Just for tonight?'

'And tomorrow night. If I get lucky.'

Meadows caught the reference, smiled over at Mickey. 'I think we already did.' He covered Mickey's hand with his own as they drove through the dark towards home.


	58. All I want forever

It's been just over a month since he came storming back into my life and got me to nick my DI and then his own fiancée. Three weeks past what should have been his wedding day, a glorious April morning that passed in tears and frustrated anger while I sat with him and seethed with jealousy. He did love her, whatever he says now, but it was like how I loved Debbie. Not how we love each other.

It's over five years since we first met and three since we became lovers. Only a fortnight since I got the paperwork sorted and he waltzed back into Sun Hill as if he'd never been away. He dispossessed Jo Masters of her desk, because it was positioned exactly where his used to be, had a brief and noisy clash with Phil Hunter, who'd forgotten that he'd been promoted, and then went flying down to see Smithy again.

He's happy at Sun Hill. I gave him some cases, that first day. If I try to be objective, I have to admit that he hasn't done too well with any of them. His judgement's gone; he doesn't trust himself to work out the answers. But I find it hard to be objective about him and I love him too much to care what the others think about him.

Two hours ago, I walked back round to our flat. He'd had the day off - spent it unpacking. His football trophies on one of the shelves, CDs and vinyl piled everywhere. Typical Mickey, I think he got bored halfway through it. His pictures are up though, photos of himself in team line-ups, one of Kate, one of us two laughing together that came from a night out. Whoever took it never realised that he was photographing anything beyond two friends having fun. The Clash, Nirvana, a black-haired singer with his shirt off, 'Carl' scribbled across it in ink. All his life, everything that's mattered to him except for Liz.

She never knew his past, had any hold over him. He's mine, my love, more now than he ever was hers. They've bailed her - Bryce didn't want her to get let out and I don't think Mickey did either but it wasn't up to them - and I offered to keep Mickey informed, but he doesn't want to know. Trying to pretend that it isn't happening. That's his choice; I don't think he's right, but the only thing I ever forced him into was attending the medical check up, and I'll never treat him like that again. So, we don't talk about her, and won't until the trial.

We're walking at the moment, down by the Thames. We've been here a lot lately, because Mickey feels safe. It's out of sight of everyone, as near to hiding as he can get in London. It's dark tonight, but the starshine is playing in his blonde hair, turning it golden. Like he always used to, he's wearing a blue t-shirt, jeans and a leather jacket slung over his shoulders. I can just see, at his throat, the silver crucifix gleaming; the same with my ring that he's wearing. It's not in imagination and memory that I see his beauty now.

Over our footsteps, I can hear him humming a single line repeatedly. I guess it's the same thing he was singing earlier today; Kaiser Chiefs and whatever it was. The line was 'Oh, my God, I can't believe it...' I teased him over it, but I know exactly how he feels because I can't believe any of this either.

It's what I wanted since he left, what I hoped for, but I don't remember any previous dreams of mine coming true. Just this one. It's enough to make up for all the ones that didn't.

We're completely alone now, on a little side path. Standing between some bushes at the edge of the river. He's standing so close to me, sapphire eyes locked on mine, stealing whatever of my soul isn't his already. We haven't kissed since he came back, he hasn't wanted to, but I can't help myself.

My arms go around his shoulders, he steps up to stand with his body pressed against mine, and I can't believe how much I've missed this. Missed kissing him. His left hand goes up to touch my face, the silver ring I gave him as he left cold against my cheek, and his right arm snakes around my hips, pulling me closer to him. Be lucky - this is what I meant, and we both are tonight.

I have to dip my head slightly as he reaches up to rest his lips against mine. His blue eyes are bright, as free from pain as I ever remember them being. We kiss, not needing any words. Kiss like the lovers we were and will be again, and I know he's the Christian, not me, but this in the starlight with Mickey, is a glimpse into Heaven from here on Earth. This is all I want forever.

And then, he pulls back and walks away, head down, into the night.


	59. Don't regret a single thing

I walked away from Jack because I was feeling too much. Caring too much, being too happy and I've never been good at that. I guess he'll understand; he always does. I love him. The last man I kissed - although it wasn't my choice -was a rapist, the last woman a corrupt bitch who tried to wreck my life. Then I stood here holding him in the dark, all my dreams coming true at once and I kissed him. He's different, but it's all too much to take in right now, too much to understand. It'll wait, he'll still be here tomorrow. He'll always be here.

Coming back was the right thing, I guess. Coming back to Sun Hill, him, my whole past. Things I'd forgotten, like how totally annoying Phil Hunter can be or how bad the canteen food is, and things I've tried to forget but never managed to, like how I feel when Jack holds me in his arms and kisses me. The reality of it is that nothing's changed there. Just me, and although it's hurt, if it's brought me back to him then it's all been worth it. Even Delaney, even Liz.

There was a song I heard today, on a new album that Jack brought for me because he knew I was too broke. Not 'Oh My God', which I kept on singing because I know Jack enjoys moaning about the noise, but 'You Can Have It All.' Sort of says it all, really, because I have got it all now. I've got Jack. Think I might play it to him when we get home, assuming that he probably hasn't got the same plans as I have for the rest of the evening. Even now, I'm not sure that he wants to start all this again.

He's come looking for me this time; he's never going to leave me again. I can hear him coming, although I can't see even the faintest glimpse of him in the dark. And I don't want to keep hiding, not from him or anyone else, so I walk towards him again because I trust him. I love him, and he isn't Liz or Delaney to hurt me.

I can hear that song now, every lyric although I only played it once. 'You can never hold my hand in public; they can't know or understand that you and me are now together. It's not my fault, I don't care, I don't regret a single thing.'

God, I do. I regret a lot. Hitting him, leaving him, having to hide our relationship, sleeping with him when my religion tells me it's wrong. But what I don't regret, when I finally see Jack walking towards me, is loving him. Never that. If I never get to Heaven and with all that on my record, I'm sure I won't, I've had a taste of it here with him.

I kiss him before he has a chance to complain about me walking off earlier, and we're both there with nothing but love on our minds. I don't think I'll play him that record tonight; I think we've got other plans.

THE END

Well, there you have it. You didn't seriously think I'd leave them like that, did you? A big shout out to – Megan, Becca, KittyKit, Northstar, all the others who've kept me company while writing what is essentially a novel. I couldn't have done it without you guys, your reviews and emails meant the world. Thank you all so much and I hope I haven't let you down.

There's 2 sequels 'Second First Time' which I expect to post within a fortnight or so, and a nameless one set about 3 years later. Should be here soon enough.

Wow. I did it… Staggers off to get some sleep


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